Alone
by UThnkUrFunny IThnkImAdorable
Summary: Teenchesters. When Sam gets horrifying news of his family, where will his life go from there? How will he deal? Will Sam even survive? NOT A DEATHFIC! Sam's 16, Dean's just 21. Limp!Hurt!Sam. later, Protective!Dean ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Now, this story TOTALLY came to me on a whim. I first intended it to be a oneshot. But then my fingers kinda ran their own show and wrote this. _Well_ I thought, _I guess I'm starting another story._**

**This is kinda an interesting story my fingers came up with. I actually surprised myself. I just hope my fingers can write the rest, 'cause I have no idea where they intended to go :P (I know this explanation is strange and sounds made up, but this is really what happened. I truly have a strange mentality, so sometimes I talk about stuff like this :P I sound like I'm bragging now, don't I?)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. NOT A DEATHFIC, despite how this first chapter seems. Beginning's kinda lame, but I think it gets better as the chapter progresses... you'll have to review and let me know *hint hint*  
**

**Enjoy the first chapter!**

* * *

Sam was in the middle of a history test when an administrator came in and spoke with the teacher. Sam, along with a few other peers, looked up in curiosity. Mr. Hazard nodded and said, "Sam Winchester. They need you in the office."

"Ooooohhhh...." The class droned.

"Cut it out," Mr. Hazard chided. "He's not in trouble."

"What about my test?" Sam asked.

"You can finish it later."

Sam nodded and packed up his stuff. Throwing his backpack over his shoulder, he walked to the front of class and handed Mr. Hazard his half finished test. He then followed the administrator out of room and towards the office.

"So if I'm not in trouble..." Sam asked, "What do you need me for?"

"You'll see," the administrator said solemnly.

They went to the principal's office, where Mrs. Kelly sat. "Mr. Winchester. Please sit."

Sam warily sat down in front of desk. "What's going on?"

"Mr. Winchester, your father and brother left to do a mechanical job a few towns away correct?"

"Yes..." Sam said slowly. That was their excuse. There was actually signs of a werewolf over there and the previous night was the last night they could kill it. Dean had called him, letting him know about the successful hunt, the previous night. "I thought I got permission to stay on my own until they got back? They're getting back tonight anyway."

Mrs. Kelly shook her head. "That's not the problem, Sam."

Sam frowned. "What's going on? What haven't you told me?"

Mrs. Kelly blew out a long sigh. "Sam. Your father drove a '67 Chevy Impala, correct?"

A pit started to form in Sam's stomach. "Yes..."

Mrs. Kelly took a deep breath. "It was found this morning on the highway. You're family's been in a car accident."

Sam's stomach clenched. "Are you sure?!"

"A hundred percent."

"Well, what condition are they in?! Are they alright?!"

Mrs. Kelly closed her eyes and shook her head. "No, Sam. They're not alright. They were pronounced dead on arrival. We're pretty sure they died instantly, so they didn't feel any pain..."

Sam didn't hear anything she had to say. _They were pronounced dead on arrival._ As soon as she said that, the rest of the world just fell out of reality. Tears prickled at Sam's eyes as he tried to comprehend the statement. Dead. His family was dead. His father, his brother...

He was all alone now.

---

Sam was curled in the hospital bed. After receiving news of his family's demise, Sam went into shock and fell unconscious. He was immediately brought to the hospital for treatment. They tried to keep him relaxed and they administered antidepressants for him to take.

He couldn't care less. Sam let them pump all the drugs they wanted into him. Nothing helped the sharp pain of loneliness constantly shooting through his body. He would give anything to hear his father give him an order or his brother tease him about his hair. Sam grabbed his head as harsh sobs took him again. His family was gone. He'd never see them again. There was no one else.

---

They put Sam in the foster care system. He slept in a small bed in a large room with dozens of other beds and boys his age. They all socialized and read and played games. Sam just stayed curled in the corner of his bed, staring at the white wall. Every once and a while, another kid would come up and try to get Sam to come talk or play with them, or get him to even _talk _or _acknowledge_ them. But Sam completely ignored them.

One boy came up, a year or two older than him. "You're Sam, right?"

As expected, Sam didn't answer.

"Well, I just wanna tell you... get over yourself. _None _of us have families. That's why we're here. Hey!" The boy shoved on Sam's shoulder. "I'm talking to ya, punk! HEY!" He grabbed the hem of Sam's shirt and flung him to the floor.

The rest of the room noticed the fight and made a circle around the two opponents. Sam got himself up and for the first time, actually paid attention to his surroundings. Sam was mildly surprised at first at where he was but soon shoved that thought back as the boy in front of him swung. Sam ducked and automatically swung out and hit him on the nose. Blood started to spurt from the kid's nose, but Sam didn't stop. Sam knocked him to the ground, his face a mask of fury. Sam sat on top of him and pounded his fists into the kid's face. Even when the kid went limp under him, Sam continued to pound.

The boys around him started to shout. Telling Sam to stop. Telling Sam that he was killing him. But Sam didn't hear him. All the emotions he's been hiding away since his family's death burst out of him in a blinding sea of pure, instinctual action.

"SAM!" a shrill voice screamed. Suddenly, two men grabbed Sam by the arms and pulled him off the bloody boy. A woman, Sam's social worker, walked up to him with an appalled expression. "Just what do you think you're doing?!"

As Sam's rage started to subside, his raw emotions came out as he started to sob. He fell limp in the men's arms, crying his heart out. "I want my brother!" Sam practically wailed. "I want my dad! I wanna see them so badly...!" The harsh sobs took control and silenced his voice and dominated the suddenly silent room.

The social worker huffed. "They're dead, Sam. And that's no excuse for you to beat Simon!" She sighed and looked at the men. "Take them both to the infirmary and make sure Sam's under constant surveillance."

---

The constant surveillance didn't stop after the nurse washed the blood off of Sam's hands and wrapped up the bruises. They put him in a locked room separate from the rest of kids. A camera constantly watched the room, making Sam feel scrutinized all the time. Though in truth, Sam liked the new isolation, despite the constant surveillance. No one bugged him here. Sam could be alone with his despair. He could grieve without an audience, and more importantly, no one could scold him for showing any weakness. Before that last boy that Sam beat into unconsciousness, there were others, teasing and laughing at Sam for showing tears in public. They called him weak for missing his family. They called him stupid for wanting them back, telling him there's no use asking for what you can't have.

The door was unlocked, and his social worker was walked in.

"We have a potential family for you, Sam."

---

Sam was sitting on a chair in an empty room. A large man with a baton, tazer, and handcuffs on his belt stood beside him, a large hand on his shoulder to make sure Sam didn't go into a rage or anything. Sam didn't really understand why they were all so cautious with him. Sam only had that one outburst with that boy, and that was just because he wouldn't leave him alone. If he had just left Sam alone, Sam wouldn't have started to act, and _remember.._.

_If he had just left him alone..._

Sam continued to stare at his hands, even when a young woman entered the room. She wasn't the social worker, so Sam assumed it was the lady who was considering fostering him.

She knelt down in front of Sam looking at his face. Sam purposefully avoided eye contact.

"Careful," the large man said. "This one has a tendency to attack people."

_No, I don't._ But Sam didn't voice his thought. What was the point?

The woman continued to stare at Sam to the point where Sam started to get uncomfortable. She seemed to notice Sam's unease and asked the man if she could be with Sam alone. He was hesitant but then nodded. "Just scream or something if he tries to hurt you."

When the man left, the woman looked at Sam again. "My name's Lori," she said.

Sam just turned his head away from the woman and her piercing gaze.

"I hear you're a problem child."

Sam scoffed at that.

"You don't agree?"

Sam just shook his head. Then he shook his head harder when he realized he was communicating with the woman. _No! This isn't right..._

"I heard about your family," she went on to say. "Must be awful to lose your loved ones so suddenly."

Sam didn't say anything, but silent tears started to fall down his face. Who _was_ this woman? Why was she doing this? He didn't like her. He didn't like what she was doing to him...

The door opened again and another man, larger than then one that was standing over Sam before, walked in with the social worker. The woman, Lori, stood and walked over to the large man.

The social worker cleared her throat and said, "Sam needs to have his antidepressants everyday. He also needs to come in for therapy sessions every week." Both Lori and the man nodded. "You understand the circumstances and terms come with fostering Samuel Winchester?"

"Yes, yes," the man said. "We've been over it a million times already."

The social worker nodded and said, "I just need you to sign a few papers and you can take Sam home after that." She left the room without acknowledging Sam.

Lori grabbed the man's hand and led him to Sam. "Sam, this is my husband, Ted."

Sam avoided looking at Ted, as well. Sam crouched down in his chair a little, shutting his mind off. He didn't want to socialize with these people. Sam knew he was going to this couple's home, that's all his brain was willing to process. So for now, he just left, the need to be with his father and brother overwhelming him.

---

A few hours later, Sam was loaded up with his few possessions into the back of a Sedan. Everything was uneventful. It took about an hour and a half to reach this couple's house. When they got there, Sam grabbed the garbage bag with his belongings and followed them inside. They quickly showed him around the small house then led him to his new room. They led him in and shut the door behind him so he got a chance to settle in.

Sam sat on the bed and opened the garbage bag. There wasn't much in there. A few sets of clothes, a couple books...

And what he had left of his brother.

Dean's leather jacket and necklace. For some reason, those where the only things that made it out of the accident unharmed. The leather jacket had bloodstains on it. However, Sam refused to let go of it once they showed it to him.

Sam buried his face in the soft leather. Sam breathed deep, trying to imagine his brother's warmth, the smell of gun powder and shaving cream, the simple protective presence that was _Dean._

But Sam couldn't muster up the image. The memory. All there was was coldness, the smell of blood and sweat, and a complete emptiness that filled Sam from the core out. Sam's shoulders started to shake as he sobbed. It had been over two months now. Only _two months!_ And Sam couldn't quite remember what his brother looked like. Nevermind his father. His father barely entered his mind anymore. John was barely a part of the family to begin with. When Sam thought of his father and brother, that was only because they came together, in a unit. In reality, it was all just Dean. Dean was his family, his parent, his friend, his everything. And now he was gone.

Sam was struck by fear when he realized he couldn't really remember what his brother looked liked. He remembered scruffiness, short brown hair, bright green eyes... but he couldn't remember _Dean_. Sam started to wail in despair and fright, tears running down his face in torrents. What if he forgot he brother altogether? What would be left of Sam? What else would he have to live for? All photos of them in various parts of their lives were either soaked in his father's blood, blurred beyond recognition, or burned from the crash. If Sam completely forgot Dean's face, there would be no reminder. As soon as Sam forgot, it was lost.

Sam curled up on the bed, holding the leather jacket tightly to his chest, hoping to fall asleep and never wake up again.

* * *

**Should I continue?**

**EITHER WAY, PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Actually, I think my fingers came up with a rather good story. Though they came a bit short on a few parts so I needed to elaborate with my own ideas XD  
**

**I got an OVERWHELMING response to the first chapter, which means that I simply must continue. XD**

**Last nights ep was... interesting to say the least. And I'm a little disappointed. I may have to write a oneshot or two to fix it XD  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter two!**

* * *

Lori set the table for dinner, looking periodically at the staircase, hoping Sam would come down without prompting. She knew it wasn't likely considering the state he was in. Still, she could hope.

According to everyone she talked to, this was the _last_ child she should take in. Especially as her first He had violent outbursts and rages that have put five people in the hospital so far. He was horribly depressed and wasn't responding to the medication or the therapy sessions. Though after hearing Sam's story, Lori wasn't surprised.

The boy lived with his father and brother. They moved around the country a lot, following the father's mechanical job. It was a tough life, but it made the connection between them that much stronger, because they really didn't have any time to form any other friendships or real acquaintances. But when John and Dean Winchester were suddenly and brutally killed by the drunk driver, that meant that Sam had no one. He lost the two people he probably would have died for himself and was left alone.

No, Lori was confident she made the right decision in fostering Sam. He needed a family. He needed someone he could connect with in this dark time of his life. She was hoping that eventually, she can draw him out of dark pit he's buried himself in.

Ted walked in and saw Lori standing still next to the table, lost in her own thoughts. "What are you doing?"

Lori jumped at the sudden question. "Nothing, Dear." She resumed setting the table.

Ted narrowed his eyes at his wife then shook his head. "What are we having for dinner?"

"Roast chicken, boiled broccoli with cheese, and mashed potatoes."

Ted nodded. "I'm going to get the kid."

Lori raised her eyebrows in acknowledgment as she made the final touches on the dinner.

---

Sam wasn't able to fall asleep. He was focusing too hard on not forgetting Dean. His expressions, his mannerisms, his face, _him._

Eventually Sam's sobbing stopped, leaving swollen, red eyes and a tear-stained face behind. He remained curled on the bed, holding the jacket close to his heart. He almost felt as though if he was able to absorb the jacket, then he'd be sure to never forget his brother.

The bedroom door opened and Ted stepped in. "It's time for dinner. Be down in two minutes."

Sam flinched at the order. It was very John-like, they way it was given. Sam's eyes swerved to Ted's face, sizing him up, like making sure it actually wasn't John.

Ted frowned at the boy. Sam's eyes and expressions were seriously _creeping him out!_ Ted held up two fingers, "Two minutes," and went back down stairs.

---

Lori and Ted were just about to sit at the table when Sam came down. He looked miserable. He had made no effort to conceal the fact that he was crying. His hair was awry and unkempt, and his clothes sagged on him. He wore the blood-stained leather jacket and necklace he had given his brother on his eighth Christmas.

Ted shook his head at Sam's appearance. Not only did the leather jacket and necklace not fit Sam at _all_ in general appearance, but he looked as though he just came off the street. "We need to work on how you present yourself. What will the neighbors think when they see you?"

_I don't give a flying fuck what the neighbors will think_. Sam sat at the table with his new foster parents. His plate had already been served. A healthy portion of chicken, broccoli, and potatoes had been dumped on his plate. Even if Sam was eating normally, he probably wouldn't have been able to eat all of it.

Sam didn't talk at all. Lori and Ted spoke in very suburban-cliche voices. Talking about their day, how _his _work day was and what _she_ accomplished. Sam was vaguely aware that this was what he always wanted. A nice house to live in, with normal caring parents who don't move constantly....

As soon as Sam realized he thought this, he dropped his almost clean fork, which landed on the plate with a loud _clink_!

Lori and Ted stopped mid-sentence to look at Sam, who was paler than before and staring in disbelief at the couple. "Sam, sweetie, is something wrong?" Lori asked worriedly.

Sam could feel tears rising up and quickly asked in a small voice, "Bathroom?"

"Down the hall and to the right," Lori pointed.

Sam dashed out of his seat and ran to the bathroom. He slammed the door behind him and bent over the toilet, emptying his stomach of any fluids and the little actual food he ate that day. Sam continued to dry heave as he realized over and over again that he got the life he always wished for. At the cost of his father and brother's life. Guilt ate at Sam. When the dry heaves stopped, Sam fell sideways, his legs feeling weak. He sobbed bitterly on the cold floor, falling deeper into his depression as the guilt screamed at him, taunted him, ripped him apart into little pieces before putting him back together, only a slight glimpse of the person he was before remaining. Sam begged God to take it all back. Take back every time Sam wished for normalcy, for the life of the white picket fence, and give Sam back his family.

"Deeeean...!" Sam sobbed, folding in on himself, trying to shut out the outside world.

There was a knock on the bathroom door. "Sam?! Are you alright?!" Lori's voice asked in that familiar worried tone. Why was she always so worried about him? They were practically strangers and she said before that they told her he was a problem child. Why should she be concerned about a problem child?

Wearily, Sam got off the floor and flushed the toilet. If he just stayed, Lori would come in and try to comfort him which would be just _wrong_. Only Dean could comfort him _right_. Only Dean could comfort him...

He forced himself to stop crying like a baby and wiped his eyes off, not bothering to make himself look any more presentable.

Lori stood just outside the bathroom door, worried about what Sam might do. She had no idea if he was suicidal or not, though chances are very high. She made a mental catalog of what was in the bathroom.

The door opened and Sam stumbled out, looking more miserable than ever. Lori decided to ignore this for now and plastered a smile on her face. "You ready to finished dinner now?"

Sam gave Lori a confused look and shook his head. "C-can I just go to bed?" he asked quietly.

"Sure, sweetie." She walked Sam to the bottom of the staircase. "We're visiting your new school tomorrow, so I'll probably have you up at around nine."

Sam gave no indication of hearing except for the slight pause in his step. He continued up and entered his new bedroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. Not bothering to undress or crawl under the covers, Sam curled onto the bed. He clasped Dean's necklace tightly in his fist and burrowed into the leather jacket he was wearing. He stared at the wall, waiting patiently for exhaustion to take him to a world where the pain was numb.

---

Lori thought about Sam's episode in the bathroom as she cleaned the dishes. It was so sudden. He just dropped his fork, asked for the bathroom and went dashing. She heard him vomit and sob through the bathroom door. Lori could feel her heart tugging as she heard him whimper a name. She assumed it was his brother.

Lori suddenly felt so helpless to how to help the boy. The enormity of what Sam was going through and the reality of his situation hit her hard. This wasn't going to be simple to fix. She just prayed to god that she'd be able to help the boy.

"Lori?"

Lori gasped and dropped the plate she was holding. It fell into the sink and shattered into pieces.

"Oh god!" Lori exclaimed. "I-I'm so sorry! Y-you just startled me is all!"

Ted looked at Lori for a few moments, like he was examining her. She bit her lip during his examining, hoping he wouldn't see anything he didn't like.

Ted smiled and Lori smiled back. "What were you thinking about?"

Lori looked towards the staircase. "Sam. I'm just wondering how we're going to help him."

"We'll help him," Ted assured. "Starting tomorrow, we're going to treat him like a member of family. He'll have to follow the rules and does he's told. And if he doesn't --" Ted shrugged. "He'll get punished. Simple as that."

Lori bit her lip. "Are you sure that's the best way to help him?"

"Lori, what Sam needs is a normal environment for him to live in so he can just forget about his other family and move on. Trust me. In the end, it'll be for the best."

---

Dean groaned as he started to regain consciousness. He heard a slight clink-clink sound that pounded in his head. It took a few moments to realize his moving was causing the torturous noise.

Dean opened his eyes and found he was chained to a stone wall. He was in an old medieval style cell. Stone walls, some straw on the ground, small window, the works.

When Dean heard a groaning to his right, he quickly turned around and prepared to defend himself when he saw it was his father. "Dad!"

John's head snapped up. He looked relatively unscathed.

That's when Dean decided to check himself. Besides the fact he had a splitting headache and he was freezing from only wearing a t-shirt, he was fine too. Then Dean saw how bare his chest was. His hand shot up to the place where his necklace usually hung. A temporary panic came over Dean as he looked around him for where it might have fallen off. His shoulders slumped a little when he realized it wasn't anywhere around him.

John nodded to himself when he did his own exam over his son and found him alright.

"What the hell is this, Dad?"

John looked around at their cell. "I dunno." John checked himself for anything to pick the locks with. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"Driving home," Dean said. _Home..._ "Holy crap! Sammy!"

"I'm sure he's fine, Dean."

"We don't even know how long we've been unconscious! And Sam's going to be worried out of his mind -- !"

"No need to worry about that," an overly sweet voice echoed.

John and Dean both jumped at the sudden intrusion in their conversation. "Who are you?" John demanded.

"No need to worry about that either, sugar."

"Why are you doing this?"

The voice gave a high-pitched giggle that echoed through the cell. John and Dean looked at each other. Okay, that was _creepy!_

"Let's just say I'm having a _blast_ watching your youngest trying to keep himself alive."

Dean looked up at this. "What the hell have you done with him!?"

"Dean, calm down," John ordered.

"I haven't done anything to him. Men are so emotionally vulnerable. Hit just the right valve and the whole man breaks. I merely put him in a position to have that valve hit."

"What have you done!?" Dean shouted.

"Dean, trap it!" John barked.

"You should listen to your father, Dean. The more unhappy I am, the more I'm going to enjoy Sam's struggle for survival. Though, I will answer you. Like I said before, I haven't done anything to Sam. Just made sure the conditions are right."

Now John's interest was piqued. "What conditions? For what?"

The voice giggled again, sending shivers down the Winchesters' spines. "Revenge, John Winchester. Revenge."

* * *

**Well? What'd you guys think? Honestly please!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Actually, I think my fingers came up with a rather good story. Though they came a bit short on a few parts so I needed to elaborate with my own ideas XD  
**

**I gotta say... I think this is one of my favorite stories to write. I just started this chapter about forty-five minutes ago and I'm already done... It's easy to write and I'm finding it quite enjoyable XD  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter three!**

* * *

John frowned. "Who are you?"

"What..." the voice mocked. "You don't remember me?"

"How can I remember you if I can't even see you!?" John yelled angrily.

There was a moment of silence. "Think really hard, John Winchester. I'm sure it'll come back to you eventually."

"What did you do with Sam!?" Dean yelled.

That infuriating giggle again. "I already told you."

"That's not good enough!"

"Dean..." John warned. "I doubt you're helping the situation."

Dean reluctantly backed off. "Yes, sir," he mumbled.

"I will tell you..." the voice said, "It's been over two months since you last saw him.

"What!?" Dean and John both yelled.

The voice giggled in glee. "Another spell I had cast. Anyway, the last few months haven't been kind on the youngest Winchester at all."

Now John was having difficulty controlling his anger. "I swear, if you've done anything to my son..."

"_I_ haven't done anything, John. Just enjoyed the show. I have to say, little Sammy's almost pathetic without you two."

"Just what do you plan on -- !?"

"My _plan_..." the voice stressed, "Is to keep you here until I say so. Then you can go off and find little Sammy, and move on with your life."

John frowned. "That's it? Keep us here until you say so? Where's the catch?"

"Oh, there's no catch. Just keep in mind, if it's been over two months now, just how much longer do you think you'll be in here without you knowing it?"

---

Sam jerked awake with the sharp knock on the door.

"We're leaving in forty-five minutes," Ted's voice said through the door. "Take a shower and dress nicely."

Sam sighed. He really had no intention of doing what Ted wants. Though he admits, he does need a shower.

With a non-caring lethargy, Sam stripped and went into the bathroom connected to his room. He liked the setup. That way he could have more privacy.

He didn't do much except stand under the water and occasionally run his fingers through his hair to untangle the knots there. After the water ran cold, he stepped out and dried himself off. He put on the same clothes as before, only changing the boxers.

After he was dressed, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His eyes weren't red and puffy anymore, but they were dead looking and had dark bags. He was unusually skinny and looked gaunt. The t-shirt and jeans he was wearing were wrinkled and stretched out, making him look even thinner. Along with Dean's bloodstained leather jacket, he really did look like a bum off the street. Sam's hand found it's way to Dean's necklace and grasped it tight for the little reassurance it provided.

"Going to visit my new school, Dean," Sam said to his reflection. "Wonder what it'll be like."

Sam's reflection just stared back.

Sam closed his eyes. For some reason, he was a little disappointed for the lack of a response. Even though he knew it was absurd to expect one.

Pulling Dean's jacket tighter around him, he left his room and headed downstairs.

---

Lori had set out a plate of eggs and bacon with a glass of orange juice on the table for Sam when he came down. She doubted he would eat much, if any, but she had to try.

She raised her head from the forms she was filling out when she heard someone coming down the stairs. When she saw Sam, she tried to ignore Sam's image and plastered a smile on her face. "Morning, Sam!"

Sam didn't acknowledge her. He stared at the plate on the table before slowly turning his head to Lori, questioning it's presence.

"That's for you, Sam. You should eat something before we go."

Sam shrugged before sitting down and picking up the fork. He hesitated before he stabbed a small chunk of scrambled egg and popped it in his mouth. He chewed it without really tasting it then swallowed. He set the fork back down. He couldn't taste it, the bite he took made no difference to him. What was the point?

Lori sighed in disappointment. "At least drink the orange juice."

Sam mechanically complied, draining the glass in a couple gulps.

Ted's voice shouted into the room. "We need to go now!"

"Coming!" Lori said, picking up the forms and stood up. "Ready to go?"

Sam ignored her as he got up and headed outside, having put on his shoes before upstairs.

---

Ted sat in the car, waiting for Lori and Sam to come out. When he saw Sam and the clothes he wore, he sneered. When Sam got into the back, Ted turned around in his seat and growled, "What do you think you're wearing?"

"Clothes," Sam replied in a monotone voice.

"Think that's funny, wise ass?"

Sam shrugged as he looked out the window.

Ted sighed, his anger threatening to boil over. However, out in public, even in the car, he had to keep his composure in case of a passerby. He turned back into his seat and said, "After we're done at the school, we're going to buy you some new clothes."

The passenger door opened and Lori slid into her seat and closed the door.

"What took you so long?" Ted questioned.

"Had to get my shoes on," Lori said quietly. She could tell her husband was agitated.

"Whatever," Ted huffed. He released the clutch and drove off.

---

"Mr. Winchester has an impressive record," Principal Snider said. "Straight 'A's everywhere he's been... I have no doubt he'll do just as well here."

"That's good to hear," Ted said. "So when can he start?"

"Well, if neither of you have any objections, he can start tomorrow. Its the beginning of the week and of the block rotations. It's also not that late in the year, so I have no doubt he'll be able to catch up in no time."

"Alright." Ted stood and offered his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Snider."

"My pleasure."

Ted turned to Lori and Sam and said, "Let's go now. We need to buy supplies and some new clothes for school for you, Sam," Ted smiled.

As the family exited, Mr. Snider smiled. Ted and Lori were well known in the community. A happy couple with the misfortune of not being able to have children. So they decided to foster and hopefully, eventually adopt. And if anyone deserved to, it was those two. Mr. Snider returned to work with a smile on his face. _What a fortunate boy..._

---

Sam followed Lori and Ted through the department store. He made no active contribution to selecting clothes and supplies. As far as the supplies went, Ted just grabbed what was cheapest and threw it into the cart. Occasionally Lori would look at the quality but quickly put it back when Ted noticed the price and gave his an even look. When selecting the clothes, that was when Lori and Ted worked together to get the best looking and best quality clothes, estimating what would fit Sam since he refused to respond to either adult.

As the day wore on, Ted's patience got thinner and thinner. When they went out to lunch and Sam refused to order, he ordered for Sam.

"And you're going to eat everything on that plate, or so help me god..." Ted threatened in a low voice.

Sam ignored Ted and the plate of food placed in front of him. If John Winchester couldn't force Sam to eat what he didn't want, this man certainly wasn't going to.

When they got back to the house, Ted thrust the bags of clothing into Sam's hands and said, "Change into something else. Those clothes are disgusting."

Sam actually found himself agreeing with the man. His shirt and pants both reeked which means, in turn, so did he. So Sam went to his room and changed into a new pair of jeans and a polo shirt. Sam cringed at the small collar and stiff cloth. He unbuttoned it all the way so he didn't feel so smothered and put on a white cotton tee underneath. He put Dean's jacket back on over his clothes and headed back downstairs, intuitively knowing Ted was going to retrieve him anyway.

Ted and Lori were speaking in low tones in the living room when Sam entered. When he did, Ted glared at Sam and said, "Take off that ratty jacket and that _ridiculous_ necklace, now! You look like a gangster..."

A stab of anger shot through Sam's chest. "No."

Ted's eyes squinted in anger. "What did you say?"

"No. And you can't make me." Lori flinched at the words.

Ted got off the couch and walked up to the teen until they were standing toe to toe. Ted was a good five or six inches taller and more heavily built than Sam's lanky figure, but that didn't intimidate Sam at all. He had faced much more terrifying things before. Besides, what was Ted going to -- ?

_WHAM!_

Ted had thrust a large fist into Sam's stomach, causing Sam to double over and gasp for breath as the wind got knocked out of him. Ted lifted both his fists together and hit Sam squarely on the back, causing him to fall to the ground. Sam groaned at the sudden pain spreading from his back.

Remembering his father's constant insistence to 'suck it up', Sam quickly got back on his feet and hit Ted squarely in the face. Ted looked shocked at the defiance the boy showed, but that shock was quickly replaced with anger. Ted swung out but only glanced the teen's shoulder as Sam dodged and thrust an elbow into Ted's own stomach. Unfortunately, Ted's well built body didn't allow the elbow to sink an inch into his stomach. Untettered, Ted rammed a fist into the back of Sam's head, causing a white flash to explode before Sam's eyes and to fall to the ground, disoriented by the blow.

"Ted, stop it!" Lori begged.

"He disobeyed me, Lori," Ted said evenly. "Now he needs to be punished."

"He's just a boy! He just moved in! Please go easy on him...! He'll learn."

Ted looked at the teen on the ground. Sam was slowly shaking his head, trying to clear the fogginess that impaired his thinking. Taking advantage of Sam's confusion, Ted bent down and ripped the leather jacket and necklace off of him. He handed them to Lori and said, "Burn them."

"N-no!" Sam said. He shakily got up, ignoring the exponentially growing headache. Ted grabbed Sam's arm, pulled it up behind him, and pinned him to the back of the couch, causing Sam to gasp in pain. "Pl-lease..." Sam begged. "I-I won't wear them..."

"Then you have no use for them," Ted said. He gave his wife a nod, telling her to go ahead and burn them.

Lori's heart started to break at the tears forming in Sam's eyes. Obviously these items had some sentimental value to them and it wasn't just Sam being stubborn before. Lori sadly walked towards the garage and to the small furnace there so she could burn the spoiled jacket and relic.

A mixture of despair and anger overcame Sam. Tears ran down his face as he growled, "You must be really stupid. I'm seeing my therapist on Tuesday. And when I tell her that you're a fucking child abuser..."

"She won't believe you," Ted said. "You attacked me first. You are a problem child with violent tendencies. Your word against mine... you don't stand a chance."

The loud clang of a furnace door closing echoed into the house, causing Sam to flinch. A dark pit formed in Sam as he realized he just lost what was left of his brother. His brother was gone. Dead, gone, with no reminder of his existence left. Sam started to sob in Ted's grip. Ted snarled in disgust. He pulled Sam off the couch and pulled him upstairs, keeping the arm pinned behind his back. He shoved Sam into his room and locked the door behind him.

Sam just curled into a ball on the floor, sobbing bitterly. He reached for the phantom jacket and tried to pull it tighter around him for the little of Dean's presence that remained there. But no matter how hard he tugged, the jacket wasn't there to offer what was left of his brother. He reached for the necklace. The sharp points of the horns on the relic didn't pinch his skin, the warm metal didn't radiate that familiar comfort. Sheer panic seized Sam as he tried to recall Dean's face. Tried to recall how he smelled, how he looked and moved, how Dean's mere presence seemed to make things better. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing came up.

Sam once had a brother named Dean. That single thought was all that was left of Sam's family. Sam grasped his head and sobbed like the broken child he was. He muttered to himself in between the broken, stuttering breathes of his hysterical sobs. "I-I... ha-have a b-b-brother... named _Dean..._ I ha-a-ave... a br-ro-other... b-br-rother... n-named _Dean... _na-amed_Dean... Dean..._" Sam repeated the broken phrase until all that was left was the name... _Dean._ He repeated it continuously, burning it into his memory. That name, that word, was all Sam had left.

* * *

**Well? What'd you guys think? Honestly please! The last part of this chapter was EXTREMELY hard to write... my hands only wrote a simple premise so I had to elaborate... which wasn't easy. So PLEASE tell me what you guys think!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Actually, I think my fingers came up with a rather good story. Though they came a bit short on a few parts so I needed to elaborate with my own ideas XD  
**

**Okay, I LOVE writing this story! It's just one of those stories that comes naturally and... I dunno, it's just REALLY fun to write. **

**WARNING! Child abuse.  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter four!**

* * *

"Class, we have a new student. This is Sam Winchester."

The class stared at Sam. He wore nice clothes, but he looked awful. His eyes were bloodshot and dead. His hair was unkempt and hung over his eyes. He hunched over and his eyes were glued into space.

"Sam, will you please sit in that empty seat in the back," Mrs. Warsh pointed.

Sam moved mechanically to the assigned seat. He dumped his book bag on the floor, pulled out a notebook and started writing. There was nothing constructive written. Just the word 'Dean.' Over and over again. Different directions, styles, sizes...

A large student sitting in the desk next to him frowned at Sam's activity of choice. "Hey, dude..."

Sam continued to write Dean's name, completely ignoring the person next to him.

The large student chuckled. "Hey, freak... who's Dean? You're boyfriend?"

Sam paused in his writing, but made no other movement. A few seconds later, he continued.

"Bradly!"

The large student jerked up straight in his seat, a light giggle emitted from the other students.

"Do I need to send you to Principal Snider's _again?_" Mrs. Warsh asked annoyed.

"No, ma'am," Bradly sneered.

"Then pay attention!"

Sam continued to write.

---

Sam was walking to his last class of the day when he ran into Bradly again. This time he a few buddies.

"You never answered my question earlier, freak."

Sam tried to sidestep him, but Bradly and his friends had made an effective circle around him.

"So... is Dean your boyfriend?"

Sam kept his eyes firmly on the ground, not acknowledging the bully.

"I heard his family died," another one of them said. "Brother and father -- _foom!_" He imitated a car crash with his hands, complete with explosion on the end.

Sam's hands tightened their grip on his book bag. A deep, red hot fire igniting in his chest.

"So maybe Dean's the brother," Bradly deducted. His lip curled up in an evil smirk. "Bet he's relieved to be away from a pathetic freak like you. I mean _look_ at you!"

Sam stomach lurched. The fire grew bigger.

"...Writing his name over and over again... I bet your brother was tired of your incestuous come-ons -- "

_WHAM!_

Sam slammed a right hook into Bradly's left eye. Bradly stumbled backwards but quickly came back with a look of fury. He swung out and missed as Sam dodged and buried a knee into his groin. Bradly screamed and fell down holding his crotch.

The others quickly charged. One managed to get a punch on Sam's nose before Sam knocked him out with a series of quick jabs to the head. The other two tried synchronizing their attack, but Sam's agility easily bypassed both of them.

"What the hell is going on!?"

The other two froze, but Sam didn't. Consumed by rage, Sam knocked out one of them out with a hard kick to the head and the other with another swift kick to the groin. Then Sam turned back to Bradly, who was moaning on the floor, still holding himself. With a face of pure fury, Sam jumped on him and started slamming a fist into his face over and over.

"That's enough!" Principal Snider yelled. He grabbed Sam and tried to pull him off Bradly but Sam just elbowed him in the eye and continued to beat his victim.

Principal Snider shook his head, trying to clear his head of the pain and sudden fogginess. He grabbed his radio and said, "I need security in locker bay C, NOW!"

---

Sam was sitting at the police station, his hands cuffed behind his back. They questioned Bradly and the others, they questioned Principal Snider, and they questioned the security guards. Conclusion? Sam Winchester was unpredictable, dangerous, and possibly murderous.

Ted and Lori came in, Ted's face neutral while Lori's was panicked. "Sam!" she yelled. She tried to cradle Sam's head in her hands, but Sam just turned his head away from the touch. Lori was alarmed at the state Sam was in. He had a bloody nose, a black eye, and and several other cuts and bruises. "What happened?!"

"You son started a fight at the school," Officer Remaro said. "Four kids and a security guard at the school are at the hospital. Had to freakin' tazer him to get him under control."

Ted glared at Sam, who completely ignored the look. "When can we bring him home?" Ted asked Officer Remaro.

"I wouldn't advise that," the officer said. "He's dangerous and I wouldn't want to see you or Lori hurt."

"Don't worry," Ted assured. "He had an outburst just last night. I was able to keep him under control."

"Is that what the bruise on your cheek is from?"

Ted nodded.

Officer Remaro scoffed. "You're amazing, Ted. I wouldn't put up with this freak. But I'm glad you and Lori are kind enough to keep him under your wing."

Ted smiled. "Thanks, Bob. What about the school?"

"Sam's suspended until further notice. Because of the extent of the assault, they may have to expel him."

Ted grit his teeth together. "Can we take him home now?"

"Sure. Just let me get the paperwork."

---

There was a deafening silence in the car on the way back to the house, which suited Sam just fine. He knew that Lori wanted to gush and worry all over Sam and he knew that Ted was furious at him. But Sam really didn't give a shit at the moment.

When they arrived, Ted slowly, with controlled movement and calmness, shut the car door and opened Sam's. He grabbed Sam's hands, pinned them behind his back and pushed him inside.

Once the door was closed behind them, Ted said, "Lori. Go to Janet's house. I need to take care of our son."

"I am not your son," Sam growled.

"You might as well be," Ted growled back.

Lori reluctantly left, throwing Sam an apologetic look, which Sam pointedly ignored. When Lori was gone, Ted pushed Sam upstairs. Sam didn't try to fight back or run away, now knowing that Ted was much stronger and faster than he was.

Ted shoved him into his room and then his bathroom. He locked the door behind them, then slugged Sam across the face, felling the teen to the hard tile.

"You piece of shit!" Ted yelled. "The first day, the _first day_! And you managed to screw it up!" Ted pinned Sam to the floor with a knee to his back. He took Sam's shirt off and his own belt. He started to swing the buckle of the belt onto Sam's back, leaving weeping cuts and long bruises.

Sam bit his lip, not wanting to give Ted any satisfaction. But Ted kept doing it until Sam was sure his entire back was a bloody mass. He started to whimper and jerk under each blow, his hard exterior starting to crack.

Ted smiled. "Now I want you to count to fifty. Every time you mess up, we start over. Clear?"

Sam gave a small nod, tears starting to fall down his face. Ted got up and ordered Sam to take off the rest of his clothes and lay himself over the toilet. "Don't want you to spoil your new clothes," he said. Sam threw pride out the window as he slowly got up and did as Ted said. As soon as he did, Ted swung. Sam gave a small grunt and more tears fell. "O-one..."

Ted continued to beat Sam's back and ass, spreading blows evenly so every part was punished equally. When they reached twenty, Sam was sobbing. The pain shooting through him was worse than any injury any supernatural creature had ever inflicted. He let out a strangled scream as Ted swung twice before Sam could say anything. Hoping Ted would count it as two, Sam gasped out, "Tw-wenty-t-two...?"

Ted tisked. "Sam... didn't you know that twenty-one comes after twenty? I guess your worthless _and _stupid. Now we have to start over."

When it was finally over, Sam fell limply to the tiled floor, soaking up the feeling of cold against his hot, shaking body.

Ted rolled up the belt and said, "Now clean up this mess you've made in here. Afterwords, you're going straight to bed." With this, Ted walked out and locked Sam in again.

Sam just lay there, tears and snot staining his face. He was sure his back and ass were an unrecognizable mess. They felt as though he was on fire. He could feel the blood seeping out onto the floor. Which only reminded him about Ted's order.

Slowly, Sam pushed himself off the floor, the fresh wave of pain forcing out more sobs. When Sam finally made it to his feet, he was shaking and leaning heavily on the wall. He tried to compose himself as he grabbed a wash cloth, soaked it in cold water and soap, and started to clean up the blood on the toilet and the floor. Every movement cause sharp pain to shoot through his body. He later found that there was even some blood on the walls where it had splattered from a well aimed blow.

When Sam was done, he allowed himself to inspect his back. It was caked in blood, so it wasn't clear how much damage there really was. Not that it mattered. All that mattered was the horrible pain that was still there.

Ted came in a few minutes later, eying all the surfaces. Once he was done, he gave a satisfied nod. "Have you learned your lesson, son?" he asked, much like a parent would ask child if he liked his new toy.

For some reason that Sam couldn't comprehend, he started trembling. He kept his head bowed down as he nodded.

"Good." Ted left, locking the bedroom door instead of the bathroom one. Sam didn't bother putting clothes on. It would just make the agony worse if he did. So he slowly walked back into his room. His book bag was sitting on the bed. _Ted must have left it there_. Sam opened it and emptied its contents. He wasn't going to need them for a while since he was suspended.

When the last journal fell out, Sam blinked at the cover. The word 'Dean' was written on it several times in black sharpie. Sam frowned as he picked up the journal and flipped through it. The same word was written on every page. Dozens and dozens of 'Dean's...

Sam suddenly dropped the journal. _Dean! My brother Dean! Dean, my brother! Dean! Dean! Dean!_ Sam started to sob again as he realized that he had forgotten his brother. For however short of a period, he still forgot it. Sam quickly picked up the notebook and held it close to his chest. He slowly lowered himself to the floor and laid down, still completely naked. The journal's sharp corners poked his skin painfully as he held it close against his chest, but he didn't care. He couldn't forget Dean again. He couldn't. Sam opened the journal and stared at the repeated word. He studied each page carefully, softly whispering each word as tears fell down his face, before going to the next page. When he finished studying all the pages that were written on, he started over again. He couldn't forget again. Couldn't forget Dean. In the dark world he now lived in, he couldn't. If he did...

Sam didn't think about it. He just continued to study the pages and the words. He went through the journal a dozen times over before the pain, exhaustion, and overall trauma caught up with him and made him collapse, the word 'Dean' frozen on his lips.

---

Dean yanked furiously on his chains, but they held fast against the iron rings they were attached to.

"Dean, cut it out," John said.

"'Cut it out!?'" Dean yelled. "We are trapped in what I assume is some sort of freaky alternate universe! Meanwhile, time is moving faster or just moving differently in where we're _supposed _to be and Sam thinks we're dead! And you want me to 'cut it out'?!"

"Wasting your strength isn't going to solve any of this!" John growled.

"Well at least I'm doing something," Dean mumbled. He sighed. "We have to get out of here."

"I know, son. The question is, how?"

"I will let you out when I'm ready," the voice said.

Dean and John jumped. They had forgotten about the voice. "And when exactly will you be ready?" John asked.

"Oh, I don't know! I'm having a _blast_ watching your son suffer. I'll let you go when I think little Sammy's had enough."

"You said this was revenge against _me_," John said. "Leave my sons out of this!"

The voice did that creepy giggle again. "Oh please. John, the best _way _to exact revenge against you is to go for you sons. The two things you treasure most in this world. And I knew your eldest would suffer most if he knew his baby brother was suffering."

"What are you doing to him!?" Dean demanded.

"Like I said before, _I'm_ not doing anything. Just enjoying the show."

John sighed when he realized they were going in circles. "And when do you think," John asked evenly, "you'll be done 'enjoying the show.'"

"Oh, I imagine soon. If it goes too far... well, then you won't be able to see your son when he's most broken."

* * *

**Well? What'd you guys think? Honestly please! **

**ANY SUGGESTIONS? Let me know!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Actually, I think my fingers came up with a rather good story. Though they came a bit short on a few parts so I needed to elaborate with my own ideas XD  
**

**Okay, I am considering this fic to be my master piece. Don't ask me why, I just am. It's just coming so naturally and I feel like I'm writing better than my others...  
**

**WARNING! Child abuse.  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter five!**

* * *

"He _is _a bit of a problem but it's nothing we can't handle," Ted said into the receiver. He listened. "Right, boys will be boys, but I think young Sam may very well be unbalanced, dangerous even." A pause. "Yes, we have it under control if you'd like to -- " Another pause. "Great! What time?"

Lori watched as Ted talked to some of his friends. They were going to throw a little welcome party for Sam and Ted wanted all his friends to be there. Of course, he needed to warn them first about how dangerous Sam is. That way they can at least be on guard. But knowing Ted, he'll have Sam on a short leash at the party.

Ted calmly sat down the phone. "Lori, go up and tell Sam to take a shower, get ready, and come down for breakfast. If he isn't down in thirty, there's going to be hell to pay."

Lori nodded and proceeded upstairs. She knocked on Sam's door and said, "Sam? Your father wants you to take a shower and get ready." She waiting for some sort of response or sign of movement from inside the room. When there wasn't one, she knocked a little harder on the door. "Sam! Did you hear me?!" When there was no response, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Sam was sleeping naked on the floor, his head resting on a notebook and his back and backside a mass of dried blood and bruised flesh. Lori ignored all this as she gently shook Sam's shoulder. "Sam, sweetie? You need to wake up now."

Sam's closed eyes scrunched as he began to wake. "'Ten mor' min'tes, Dean..."

Lori shook Sam harder. "Sam!"

Sam started awake. He winced as the movement caused pain to flare up his back. He looked up blurrily at Lori. "L-Lori...?"

"You need to take a shower and get ready. Be down in less than twenty-five minutes." With this, Lori left the room, closing the door behind her.

For a moment, Sam just lay there. He looked down at the notebook and begun to trace one of the bigger 'Dean's. "Gotta take a shower, Dean." When Sam finished tracing the word, he slowly rose to his feet. Tears blurred his vision as he stretched his back and the welts on his ass started to reopen. When he was finally standing, he slipped the notebook under his bed, not knowing what Ted would do with it if he found it.

He shakily made his way to the bathroom. He turned the water in the shower as hot as it would go before stepping under the spray. Sam took a sharp inhale as the water beating down on his back stung the wets and bruises there. But as he remained longer under the spray, the more the pain faded and the more his muscles relaxed. He attempted to wipe away as much of the dried bloods as he possibly could. Tears started to mingle with the water as he accidentally reopened some of the welts.

When the water ran cold, Sam turned off the water and got out. He quickly dried his body, not bothering to do a thorough job or even touch his hair, and threw on a pair of loose boxers, baggy sweats, and a baggy shirt. When he put on the sweats, he was careful with the elastic band around the waist. It was the only part of the clothing that was going to put an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his back. Thankfully, it didn't open any of the welts or hurt so badly he couldn't stand it.

When Sam reached the bottom of the stairs, he was greeted with Ted reading the newspaper while eating breakfast at the dining room table. Sam looked around for Lori and found her cleaning dishes in the kitchen. It was such a suburban cliche sight. And it belied the true nature of the couple.

There was another plate of food set on the table and Sam assumed it was for him. He slowly pulled a chair out and paused. He really didn't think he could sit down at the moment.

Ted gave Sam a glare. "Sit down and eat, son."

Sam glared back at Ted, despite the fact his body started to shake. "I am not your son."

"You have no other father, therefore you are _my_ son!"

"I have another father! He's name's -- !" Sam paused.

Ted gave Sam a mocking look. "Yes?"

Sam's breathing quickened and his chest tightened as he opened and closed his mouth like a gasping fish. Who was his father? Did he really have no other? Was Ted his real father?

"Sit down..." Ted said dangerously quite, "and eat!"

With a small nod, Sam slowly lowered himself into his seat, gritting his teeth at the hot pain that flared from his ass. His body shook harder as he picked up his fork and knife and tried to eat. The pain seemed to increase the longer he sat. His vision started to blur until he couldn't take it. He shot up into standing position gasping in the sharp relief the new position provided.

Ted slowly put his paper down and stood as well. Then he backhanded Sam and the teen fell to the floor with a pained grunt, Sam was shaking so hard he could barely control his limps. He brought a shaking hand up to his face, but remained on the floor, waiting for Ted to make the first move.

"We're having guests at eleven," Ted growled. "They're here to welcome you, so you need to be presentable and well-mannered. Is that understood?" After Sam's shaky nod, Ted grabbed him by the back of his shirt. "Then get some of your nicer clothes on!" Ted shoved Sam towards the staircase, which Sam hit and fell on, an uncontrolled sob escaping him as his entire body screamed out in pain. He took in some desperate breathes before dragging himself up the stairs.

---

"So this is young Sam," one of the large men said.

Lori and Ted sat on the couch while Sam sat on the chair. Ted's friends were all either on the floor or had pulled in some chairs from the kitchen.

Sam had his hair slicked back (courtesy of Ted), and was wearing a dark green suit with pin-stripes. While all of Ted's friends commented on Sam's appearance, none of them seemed to notice the way the boy trembled, his pain-filled eyes, or the dark bruise forming along Sam's jaw.

After the introductions, they all loitered around, talking to each other and eating the food Ted and Lori provided. Sam remained standing in the corner of the room, his presence going completely unnoticed.

At least for a while.

The largest of them all, with rolls of fat hanging off his body and a thick, walrus-y mustache, came up to Sam and smiled. "How are you doing, Sam?"

Sam shrugged, silently begging the man to leave him alone.

"I'm Kenny." He slung a big arm around Sam's shoulders. "Let's go talk somewhere, shall we?"

Sam winced as the large arm pulled on his punished back. He didn't want to talk to Kenny, but he had neither the strength nor the will to stop the man.

They went into a room down a separate hallway, away from the party. They entered a room and Kenny shut the door behind them. "So what do you think of your new parents?" he asked cheerily.

Sam shrugged again. He really didn't care less what this man wanted to talk about. He obviously wanted to talk about something he didn't want the others to hear, and Sam found himself wondering what.

Suddenly, Sam was shoved up against a wall. Kenny pinned him and started humping him greedily.

"Get the fuck off me!" Sam yelled, the pain flaring once again and bringing tears to his eyes..

Kenny pressed Sam's face against the wall so he couldn't move his jaw. "Shh, now. We don't want daddy-dearest to hear." He pressed Sam's body hard against the wall as he rubbed his bulge between Sam's silk-clad ass cheeks.

Sam cried as the big man reopened the welts on his ass. He started to feel sick and ashamed as he started to react to the disgusting man's ministrations. The man's bulge grew hard and painful against Sam's ass, the man getting faster and harder by the second. Sam doubled his efforts of escape when Kenny started to pull his pants down. "You... fucking... PERV!" Sam jerked his head back and hit Kenny square in the face.

Kenny staggered back, his hands covering his face. "You broge m' nose, you fucgking brat!" With this, he quickly retreated back to the party.

Sam's anger quickly disappeared, leaving shock and disgust. His body was surprisingly numb. He suddnely bent over and heaved, his breakfast coming up in a rainbow of dull colors.

Ted burst into the room, nearly tearing the door of its hinges. Kenny stood behind him with a reddening towel held to his nose. "What they hell did you do?!"

"H-he a-attacked me!" Sam managed to stutter out. He wrapped his arms around himself and held himself tight, trying to calm his trembles and keep his focus on the world as shock started to take hold.

Ted just glared at the shaking teen. He turned around and said, "You and the others should probably leave now."

"Yoo ned someone ta call da police?" Kenny asked.

"No, no… I'll handle it. He's a violent problem child, so the police can't do anything to help. Maybe a strong hand can."

Kenny nodded and left; the others soon after followed.

Lori was shaking badly as she washed the dishes and put leftover food away. She was terrified. Not only for herself but for Sam as well. This wasn't supposed to turn out this way. This adoption was supposed to be smooth. They'd have a child, and things would be better, _normal_.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

---

Sam had his long, naked body curled up in the corner of the closet. Ted had given him a harsh beating for, not only 'attacking' Kenny, but also for throwing up and ruining the carpet and his suit.

Like before, Ted had Sam strip before he started to beat him. He quickly knocked Sam to the ground and kicked him viciously in the torso and back, ignoring the boy's cries and pain-filled wails. He held Sam up against the wall and kicked him hard in the groin. Sam screamed and gasped for breath. His entire body was shaking from the sheer pain. Ted gave Sam no respite as he beat Sam hard, giving him hard blows to the face and chest.

"You fucking brat! What are my friends and the neighbors going to think now!? I've got some whore for a son who can't even stay still and _behave_!"

After Ted was done, he had locked Sam in an empty closet, telling him that he'd be allowed back out when he decided to behave.

Sam curled in on himself even more as all the recent memories mixed together and tormented him. Kenny rubbing himself on Sam, Ted beating him, Ted forcing Sam to clean up all the messes...

Sam's entire body was on fire. He was sure he had at least three cracked, if not broken, ribs; his face was a mass of bruises, with split and swollen lips and black eyes so swollen he could barely look out of them.

After a while, Sam started to write random letters and words on the wall with his finger. He was trying to remember something, but no matter how hard he concentrated, he couldn't recall it.

_D - A - N - E - E - N - D - A - FRATER - __N - D - A -__ CUSTOS..._

"Dean..." Sam whispered. He remembered now. Dean. Whatever that was. It held a certain amount of comfort for Sam. The pain that ate away at his body seemed to reduce a little as Sam focused on the word. "Dean, Dean, Dean..." he whispered softly, like mentioning the very name of God in His presence.

A terrified wail escaped Sam as the memories of recent events came back to him, more vivid and harsh than ever.

Sam Winchester was cracking, fissures forming in his psyche. Confusion ate away at him, wearing him down, expanding the fissures and making them blacker. For him, the world seemed to exist, and yet it didn't. The pain meant something, but it didn't. He felt dirty, but he wasn't there. He trembled at the edge of a cliff. He looked down and all there was was darkness and chaos. And all he could do was wait until he was pushed.

Or until he jumped.

* * *

**Well? What'd you guys think? Honestly please! Really, if you don't like something, IT'S NOT GOING TO CHANGE UNLESS YOU TELL ME!  
**

**ANY SUGGESTIONS? Let me know!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Actually, I think my fingers came up with a rather good story. Though they came a bit short on a few parts so I needed to elaborate with my own ideas XD  
**

**Okay, I am considering this fic to be my master piece. Don't ask me why, I just am. It's just coming so naturally and I feel like I'm writing better than my others...  
**

**WARNING! Child abuse. Also mild sexual assault. (Not Sammy)**

**SORRY FOR THE DELAY! ****I've been SOOO busy this last week! I won't bore you with the details (though admitting, my new obsession with Star Trek has something to do with it. I may start writing fanfiction for it XD Don't worry, I'll update all my stories first ;D) I hope the length of this chap makes up for it XD  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter six!**

* * *

John and Dean's heads shot up as that creepy giggle came back. "Okay. I think I'll let you guys go now." There was a small shudder in the room and the shackles suddenly fell from their wrists and ankles. "I'll just put ya somewhere and you can go find your son."

John's eyes narrowed. "No tricks?"

The voice giggled again. "Oh, John, don't be insulting! I'm a being of my word!"

"'Don't be insulting!?' You staged our deaths, done god knows what to my boy -- !"

"Now, now, now... I've done it for your own good."

The prison around them begun to dissolve and disappear. The voice's giggle turned into a laugh as John and Dean found themselves standing in the middle of the road in front of the motel they had been staying in.

"Have fun finding your son, John Winchester."

The malice in the voice was unmistakable.

---

Ted practically ripped the door open, light flooding into the dark closet. Sam shut his eyes from the torturous light and shrunk away from the dominating man before him.

"Are you ready to behave yourself now?"

Sam gave a small nod and Ted smiled. "Good. I just got a call from your principal. You're allowed to go back to school under... certain conditions." Ted started to walk away towards Sam's room. When he noticed that Sam hadn't moved from his position in the closet, he spun around and yelled, "Get over here, you fucking brat!"

Ignoring his pain-ridden body, Sam quickly stood and followed Ted. Ted rolled his eyes and continued to walk. "You need to make an appointment with the school counselor, an administrator will regularly check on you during the school day, and you _must _behave! If there's another infraction, you will be expelled and I will be _seriously_ unhappy. Understood?"

"Yes," Sam croaked out.

Ted pointed at Sam's room. "Go get cleaned up. We're going out to dinner tonight with my friends and you _better_ behave!"

Sam nodded as he entered his room and proceeded to the bathroom. He avoided looking at the mirror, knowing he would only see a mass of flesh that resembled nothing.

As he showered, he tried hard not to notice the flakes of dried blood or the red swirls from his reopened wounds coming off his body. His body was surprisingly numb to all the pain that had been inflicted. He just wished he could do the same with his mind.

Something heavy was pressing hard on his psyche. He couldn't get away from it and he couldn't relieve the pressure. His body didn't feel like it was his anymore. _Nothing_ seemed like it was his anymore, including his mind. It was all alien - foreign to him. His mind felt like a stranger, some creature that was violating his body and constantly tormenting him.

Sam quickly dried himself off and stepped out of the shower. He could feel the blood running down his body in small rivulets and he knew he had to do something about them. He reluctantly looked in the mirror to assess his condition.

As he knew he would, he saw nothing but something unrecognizable. It was covered in bruises and cuts, many of them weeping. Bones protruded out sharply, making his bruises stand out with even more contrast.

This... skeletal creature was pitiful, pathetic. And Sam was ashamed to be that creature.

Sam quickly patched himself up the best he could with the supplies in the small bathroom. After he did so, he got dressed in the most loose, nice-looking clothes he could find. He took a deep breath before heading down the stairs.

---

"What happened to the kid?" one of Ted's friends asked.

"He got into a fight," Ted said simply as they all sat down at the large table at the restaurant. "It's alright though. I've taken care of it."

"Oh? Who were you fighting?" the friend asked.

Sam looked up at the man blankly. "Ted," he said simply, not realizing he was supposed to lie.

Ted glared at Sam before assuming his previous expression. "It was that troublemaker, Zareb, up the street. Sam doesn't want to admit it, of course, but it was quite a tussle."

"Zareb?" Kenny asked. "From that weirdass family? They're _all_ troublemakers if you ask me."

"Amen to that," they all chorused.

Dinner remained uneventful. Sam only spoke when spoken to, which was rarely. Ted would give Sam warning looks every now and then, but other than that, they had dinner and conversed.

When the bill came, Ted ended up offering to pay. Most everyone else had decided to go to the bathroom before they leave and Ted and Sam remained the only people left sitting at the table.

"Go to the bathroom," Ted said. "I don't want to hear you moaning and complaining on the way home."

Not needing to go, Sam said, "I won't complain."

Ted glared at Sam. He leaned over the table and said quietly, "You're in enough trouble as it is, you whore. So do as I say!"

Sam nodded and slowly got up and approached the bathroom. Once he entered, he froze, not knowing what to do. He decided to fake going to the bathroom if to do nothing else but please Ted. But as he approached one of the stalls, he heard laughing and a muffled scream from out the back.

Driven by curiosity more than anything else, Sam walked to the door leading to the back of the restaurant building. He looked around hesitantly. He didn't see anything until there was another muffled scream and a clatter. Sam saw how the garbage container was slightly shifting, and he quickly walked to the other side.

Several large man was trying to pin a woman. Three men held her down while another was teasing and playing with her naked groin. It took Sam a few moments to comprehend the sight.

"Lori?"

The men, who were Ted's friends, turned their heads towards the young teen. Kenny, who was the one molesting Lori, stood up and faced Sam with a glare. "Go back inside, pup. Unless you wanna join in on the fun."

Sam's breathing quickened as new emotions flooded and confused him. Without hesitation, Sam ran back into the restaurant. "Somebody call the police!"

Everyone in the restaurant turned towards the frightened teen. A couple of employees came up to him and asked him what happened. When Sam was finally able to stutter out what he saw, a few good Samaritans and employees ran out back to investigate while the manager called the police.

Ted frowned and quickly ran to Sam. "What the hell is going on?!"

"L-L-Lori..." Sam stuttered. "Th-the-ey... sh-she was sc-cream-ming..."

"What about Lori!?" Ted didn't wait for an answer, instead he shoved Sam to the side and ran towards the back of the building.

Eventually everyone, including the police, was out back. A few men had grabbed Ted's friends and had them pinned against a wall or on the ground. Ted was comforting his wife, who was blank-faced and emotionless.

Sam remained inside the building. He had fallen to his knees and was now rocking himself back and forth. He repressed the need to throw up as the image of Lori's violation kept flashing before him. Knowing Ted thought of him as a whore, Sam knew Ted wouldn't want him anywhere near his wife at the moment.

"Something's wrong..." Sam muttered to himself. "Something's wrong and I can't..." He bit his lip. "I did... I called for help. She's okay now... she's okay..."

Sam closed his eyes and waited for Ted to come get him.

---

Lori sat at the dining room table, flinching at every thud and sound of flesh beating flesh. She tried to drink her tea, but she was shaking too hard.

Ted was upstairs right now, beating Sam for what happened. The sharp curses and pathetic whimpers tore at her heart.

She placed her cup back down and buried her face into her arms, crying softly. Of all the things to go wrong... She thought having a child would be good for Ted. She thought if he had someone to take care of, he'd soften a little bit. That he'd be that man she once knew years ago. But it turned out to be the worst course of action. He was even angrier than before. He was harsh and cold in bed, and he never relented in telling her how much of a disappointment she was.

She heard the creak of the staircase and she quickly wiped her face off. "How's Sam?" she asked hurriedly.

Ted gave a small grunt of annoyance as he grabbed a wet towel and wiped the blood off his hands. "I think the little shit's learned his lesson." He turned to Lori and smiled. "You don't have to worry anymore."

Lori nodded and gave a strained smile. "Th-that's good to hear."

Ted yawned and stretched. "Alright, I'm turning in."

Lori stood. "I'll be up in a minute. I have to clean up a little down here before I come up."

Ted nodded as he walked back up the staircase. "Alright, don't take too long."

---

Sam lay shivering in the corner of his room. He quietly sobbed as he tried to hid, disappear into the wall. He wasn't aware of anything anymore. Just the pain in his very soul, ripping it, stuffing it with an all-consuming blackness. No matter what he did, it wouldn't go away, it wouldn't cease.

Light flooded his room as the door was opened. Sam shied away from the light, whimpering softly as someone came into his room.

"Sam?"

Sam froze. That wasn't Ted. No, this voice was softer, kinder. There was no threat in this voice. "L-Lori...?"

Lori crouched in front of the teen, staring in disbelief at the damage her husband caused. Repressing the need to break down, Lori took a deep swallow and said, "You need to get dressed, now, sweetie."

Sam frowned. "D-does..." He licked his chapped lips. "Does T-Ted wan' me?"

Lori shook her head. She got up and quickly grabbed a pair of sweats and a baggy t-shirt. "Please hurry, Sam."

Not knowing what else to do, Sam quickly put the sweats and shirt on. He didn't know why he was shivering, but he wrapped his arms around himself and kept his eyes on the floor. _I don't understand... What's going on?_

A small weight was placed on his shoulders. The sudden smell of worn leather hit his nostrils, making his eyes widen and his head shoot up. "W-what...?"

Lori quickly placed the necklace over his head and said, "Put that jacket on and hurry!"

She led Sam downstairs and opened the front door. "Run."

Sam looked at Lori blankly. He shook his head in a noncomprehending manner.

Lori looked up the stairs panicky. She then shoved Sam out the door and said, "Run, you stupid kid! Run and don't come back!"

Sam looked at Lori with hurt eyes. What did he do wrong? Why was she so angry at him? "L-Lori..." he begged.

Lori quickly closed the door and locked it behind her, never intending to open it again.

Sam stood dumbly in the front yard. "Lori?" he whimpered. He slowly walked back up to the door and tentatively knocked it. "Lori? Can I come in now?"

There was no answer. Sam tried a few more times, all with no results. Tears filling his eyes, he slowly turned around. The whole world was before him. He suddenly felt small and insignificant. He was a spot, a mere dot in a massive world of unknowns. His body taking control, Sam stumbled forward, his feet dragging him out of the yard and down the street, deep into the wondrous and terrifying Unknown.

* * *

**Well? What'd you guys think? Honestly please! Really, if you don't like something, IT'S NOT GOING TO CHANGE UNLESS YOU TELL ME!  
**

**ANY SUGGESTIONS? Let me know!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Actually, I think my fingers came up with a rather good story. Though they came a bit short on a few parts so I needed to elaborate with my own ideas XD  
**

**Okay, I am considering this fic to be my master piece. Don't ask me why, I just am. It's just coming so naturally and I feel like I'm writing better than my others.**

**This is an... interesting and possibly confusing chapter. So if you don't understand anything PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW!  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter seven!**

* * *

John and Dean were looking through every file. Unfortunately, Samuel Winchester wasn't that unusual of a name.

It was the day after the being let them go. Once it was obvious that Sam was long gone, they asked around, trying to put together what's happened since. It didn't take long to figure out that Sam had been put in the foster care system.

So they conned their way into one of their offices and were now looking for his file.

"How many freaking Sam Winchesters can there be?!" Dean growled.

John didn't answer. He slowly opened a particularly thin file and saw the photo of his baby boy. "Dean, I found him."

Dean dropped everything he was holding and ran to his father's side. "And?"

John stared sadly at the photo for a moment. Sam looked dejected and just plain _sad_. A boy who was usually so full of life and always looked on the bright side of things...

John forced himself to look away and quickly skimmed the rest of the notes that were written. After a few minutes, "Goddammit..."

"What is it?" Dean asked. "C'mon, Dad. The suspense is killing me," he said with a nervous laugh.

John slammed the file down onto the table. "According to what's written here... Sam suffered from bouts of rage, hysteria, and severe depression. He's sent several people to the hospital. It got so bad at one point that they had to put him in secluded quarters with constant surveillance."

Dean sunk into the chair next to John. "Dammit. Sammy..."

John continued to go through the file. "It says here that Sam was fostered about a week ago by Theodore and Lorinthia Holmes."

"Weird name," Dean muttered. "We have an address?"

John took out his notebook and quickly wrote a few things down. "Yup. Let's go."

---

Zareb sighed. He really hated working as a waiter. Annoying customers; fat, greedy, disgusting customers who don't even _tip_ well, if they tip at all. Pushy managers who manage to make everything _your_ fault. He _really_ hated being a waiter. He tied up the last bag of garbage and carried it out the back door. He held his breath as opened the large garbage canister and dumped the bag in. He slammed it shut and let out a breath, relishing the cold, fresh night air. He sighed. He'd do anything for a different job.

He was about to go back in to finish his rounds when he heard a small whimper. He paused for a moment. Then, thinking it was just some sort of animal, shrugged it off and opened the door to go inside. Then a harsh breathing sound made him stop again. He turned around and squinted through the dark. "Hello?"

There was another small whimper. Curious now, Zareb grabbed a flashlight that was just inside the door and turned it on. Closing the door behind him, he followed where the noise came from. "Is someone out here?"

A small shuffling noise, followed by a pained gasp came from the side of the building. Zareb quickly rounded the corner and froze. There was a huddling figure, leaning heavily on the side of the buidling. It's face was obscured by long, matted hair.

Zareb slowly approached the figure. "Hey... You okay?" He knelt down in front of the figure, trying to assess it's condition. He gasped as the figured looked up at him.

It was a teenage boy, no older than fifteen or sixteen. His face was a mass of bruises, his right eye completely swollen shut while his left was barely open. Dried blood was all over his face and in his hair.

When the boy saw Zareb, he immediately looked away, shrinking into himself even more and softly whimpering in distress.

"Hey, kid... It's okay, I'm not gonna hurt ya." Zareb slowly laid a hand on the boy's head. The boy flinched and whimpered at the touch, but Zareb didn't move. When the boy started to relax under the touch, Zareb slowly stroked the boy's hair. "It's okay, kid. I'm not gonna hurt ya..."

"Zareb! Where the hell are you?!"

The boy jumped at the harsh voice and shrunk away from it and Zareb's hand, his body starting to shake.

Zareb groaned. "I'm over here, Mr. Tralinski."

The manager rounded the corner and looked at the sight with disgust. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I think this kid needs help," Zareb said as he stood up.

Tralinski took one look at the boy and scoffed. "Zareb, ya idiot boy! It's just some beggar hoping to get some free food!" He stepped up and kicked the boy in the side, making him cry out in pain. "Git outta here, ya piece of filth!"

"Mr. Tralinski, stop!" Zareb held the man back as the boy quickly scrambled to get up and ran away.

"Get off of me or you're fired!"

"Fine!" Zareb growled. "I quit!" He let go of the manager and ran after the boy. "Hated that fucking job anyway!'

Mr. Tralinski waved the former employee off. "Yeah, well you were always a pain in my ass."

"Hey, kid!" Zareb yelled. "Wait!"

The boy wasn't very fast. He was limping heavily, favoring his right leg. He didn't make it more than fifty feet before he stumbled and fell. He was dragging himself to the protection of another building's side when Zareb reached him. "Kid, you're gonna hurt yourself if you keep this up," Zareb laughed halfheartedly.

The boy just shrunk in on himself again, as if trying to hide in the wall.

Zareb sighed. "Well, should I take you to the hospital? Try to find your family?" When he got no response, he flipped out his cell. "I guess the hospital is the best choice." He started to dial for an ambulance when a shaky hand stopped him. Zareb looked up to find the boy looking straight at him.

"No... hospi'als..."

Zareb blinked. "So you can talk. Well..." Zareb put his cell away. "If you don't want to go to the hospital, then can you tell me where you live?"

The boy shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.

Zareb bit his lip. "Did... you parents do this to you?"

The tears started to fall as the boy brought his hand back and curled in on himself again.

Zareb shook his head. "What am I doing?" he whispered to himself as he took out his cell again, this time calling his parents.

_"Hello?"_

"Mama?"

_"Oh, Zareb. What is it? Is something wrong?"_

Zarebs sighed. He started to explain everything and when he was done, he could see his mother thinking about what he had told her.

_"Well I suppose you should bring him back here."_

"You sure?"

_"Well, Keyah was a nurse back in the day. She might be able to help him."_

Zareb looked down at the shaking boy. "Mama, are you sure?"

_"Well,"_ she scoffed, _"You can't just leave him on the street like that, now can ya?!"_

Zareb smiled. "No. Alright, I should be home in about fifteen or so." He ended the call and looked down at the boy. "Don't move, okay? I need to get my car." The boy remained unresponsive, apparently oblivious to the older man's presence. "Okay..." Zareb quickly got ran back and started his car. "This should be interesting."

---

"Mama!" Lisha yelled excitedly. "Zareb's home!"

Binah looked up from the computer and out the window. She could see the headlights of a car pulling into the driveway. Binah quickly got up and put her shoes and jacket on. "Lisha, stay inside."

Lisha looked up at her mother with hurt in her eyes. "But I always hug Zareb when he gets home!"

"Not tonight, sweetie. Why don't you go up to your room and feed Zinko and Binkie?"

Lisha laughed and shook her head as she hopped up the stairs. "They're not called Zinko and Binkie anymore! Now they're Salt and Pepper!"

Binah smiled. "Whatever you say, sweetie..." She opened the door and went outside.

Zareb was crouched next to the open passenger door. He looked at his mother as she came towards the car.

"Zareb?"

"He doesn't wanna move."

Binah stood behind her son and looked into the car. She swallowed back a gasp at the state the boy was in. "My god..."

"Are you sure we shouldn't take him to the hospital, Mama?"

The boy stirred. "N-no... c-can' go there..."

"Shh..." Binah cooed. "It's alright, we won't take you to the hospital." Zareb gave his mother a skeptical look.

The boy shook his head and tried to climb out of the car. "N-no... n-no can't..." He was about to tumble out of the car and fall onto the gravel when Zareb quickly grabbed his arm and held him steady. The boy whimpered at the contact and weakly tried to pull away.

"How on earth did you even get him in the car?" Binah asked.

Zareb gave his mother a hesitant look. "I carried him. He didn't like it, but he wasn't really able to struggle either."

Binah sighed in sympathy as she walked up to the boy. "Poor thing must be scared to death!"

Zareb nodded as he placed an arm under the boy's knees and picked him up. The boy whimpered and cried out in pain. He continued to whimper in distress as he tried to get out of the older man's arms but wasn't able to. Finally he just went limp and accepted what fate had in store for him.

Binah placed a hand lightly on the boy's head as they walked inside. The boy flinched away from the touch. "It's alright, son," Binah reassured. "We won't hurt you. You're safe now."

Once they got inside, they laid the boy on the couch and Binah ran down into the basement. "Keyah!"

"What is it, Binah?"

Binah stopped momentarily. Keyah, as usual, was sitting within a strange pattern on the floor and a circle of candles. Keyah was a very wise woman, but also very strange.

"There's a boy upstairs. You need to help him."

Keyah frowned. "Whatever happened to that thing called a hospital?"

Binah shook her head. "He refuses to go. I don't know why."

Keyah nodded as she stood up with a grunt. "Alright, take me to him."

---

Zareb sat by the boy's side, taking in all the bloodstains in the boy's clothing. _What on earth happened to you?_ Zareb frowned when he noticed that the boy was holding something so tightly, his knuckles were white. It was something on a string around the boy's neck. "What's that?" Zareb asked pointing to it.

The boy looked down at his head and frowned. He looked back up at Zareb as he pulled the bloody, leather jacket tighter around himself. "A-all I have left..." he murmured.

"Can I see it?"

The boy quickly shook his head and shied away from Zareb.

"Okay, okay..." Zareb sighed. "So what's your name, kid?"

The boy looked up at Zareb with uncertain eyes. A single tear fell from them as he asked, "Why are you doing this?"

Zareb blinked, not expecting the boy to ask him something like that. "I dunno... I guess... It would have been wrong for me... _not_ to do something."

The boy took in a shaky breath. "S-Sam."

Zareb frowned. "That's your name?" The boy nodded. "Hi, Sam. I'm Zareb."

* * *

**Okay, not my best written chapter.**

**Okay, those names, Binah, Lisha, Keyah, and Zareb, I have no idea if they'd actually be in the same family. I know their African in origin but have no idea if certain names belong to certain tribes or what. So please, to anyone who might, please don't be insulted! It is SO not intentional!  
**

**What'd you guys think? Honestly please! Really, if you don't like something, IT'S NOT GOING TO CHANGE UNLESS YOU TELL ME!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Okay, I am considering this fic to be my master piece. Don't ask me why, I just am. It's just coming so naturally and I feel like I'm writing better than my others.**

**This is another interesting and possibly confusing chapter. So if you don't understand anything PLEASE REVIEW AND LET ME KNOW!**

**BTW! I have a poll basically asking about a possible new story. I HAVE A NEW OPTION ON THE POLL! So for those of you who have already voted, check it out again and just message me if you want to change your vote. XD  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter eight!**

* * *

Dean and John were able to get the Impala back from the impound lot and they drove the Holmes.

As they pulled up to the house, Dean's heart started to thump painfully hard against his chest. Sam was probably in there. Living out life, thinking he and John were dead... Dean wanted nothing more than to run in, kick the door in and just announce his presence.

They got out of the car and marched up to the house. Dean almost laughed to himself at the strange face Sam'll give them when he sees them. Dean quickly sobered up at the thought that Sam would probably think that they were supernatural beings pretending to be his family, not actually his family. Dean steeled himself for what he was sure, was going to be an interesting reunion.

John knocked on the door, the impatience evident. A few moments later, a solid thump was heard. John and Dean gave each other confused looks before the door was yanked open.

A middle aged cacausian male looked through the foot-wide crack between the door and the frame. He looked pissed as hell and impatiently spat out, "Yes?"

John frowned at the man, sincerely hoping he got he address wrong. "Are you Theodore Holmes?"

The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Who's asking?"

John felt his son tense beside him and knew that Dean was thinking the same thing he was. "My name is John Winchester. This is my son, Dean. It's my understanding that you recently fostered my son, Sam."

Ted scoffed. "That's impossible. His father and brother died three and a half months ago in a car accident."

"News of our death have been greatly premature," John growled. "I'd like to see my son."

"Yeah, you see, there's no proof that you are who you say you are..." Ted said. "So I'm not going to let you near my boy."

"He is _not_ your boy."

"He is legally."

Dean rolled his eyes. _This is stupid_. He was about to just about to shove the bastard out of the way when he froze.

There was blood on the man's hands.

"What the...?!" Dean slammed forward and shoved the man back, allowing themselves to walk in.

John gave his son a surprised look until he too noticed the red slickness of Ted's hands. "What the fuck is that?!" he demanded once they were all in the house.

Ted looked down at his hands and gave an exasperated sigh. "Look, this doesn't concern you..."

"Sam!" Dean yelled, running past Ted and up the stairs. "Sammy, you here!?"

Ted tried to run after and stop him when John came up and nailed the man in the head, leaving him dazed on the floor. John leaned over him and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. "Where's my son?" he asked with a deadly calm.

Ted chuckled. "He's not here."

"Sam!" Dean continued to yell. He opened every door in the hallway, looking for his brother.

When he reached the master bedroom, he flung the door open and froze. "Oh my god..."

A woman, Lorinthia, Dean assumed, was cowering in the corner. She was naked, covered in bruises, and bleeding. _Hard_.

Dean came up to the shaking woman and said, "Hey, it's okay..." He was about to grab a blanket off the bed when he saw the remnants of a brutal fuck. He looked around and found a clean towel, which he wrapped around the woman's shoulders. "I'm not going to hurt you... Are you Lorinthia?"

Lori looked up at the boy. He was handsome. That was the first thing she noticed. He was also concerned. _For her_. No one's ever been concerned for _her_ before... "Lori..." she croaked out. "My name is Lori."

Dean nodded. He hated to ask in her present condition but he had to know. "Where's Sam?"

Lori chuckled through her tears. "Gone."

"Gone? What do you mean 'gone'?"

"Shoved him off," she said bitterly. "Anywhere was better than here..."

Dean licked his lips, thinking about her words carefully. "What did your husband do to him?"

She shook her head and started to cry. "It wasn't _him_," she sobbed. "He would never do that…!"

Dean grabbed her shoulders and brought her face within inches of his own. "Listen! Listen to me! What did he do?!"

She looked at Dean with teary eyes. "Punished him… S-Sam kept being bad s-so…"

Dean's stomach dropped. "And you just… _sent_ him away!" he yelled angrily.

She started to sob again. "What was I _supposed_ to do?!"

"Call the police! Let someone _else_ take care of him! Don't just kick him out of the house, you stupid bitch!"

Lori flinched at the hard words. "Pl-lease… just leave us alone…"

Dean pushed her away with disgust. "We're going to call the police. Hopefully the both of you'll get your just desserts." Without another word, he ran back downstairs. When he reached the ground floor, he found his dad leaning over Ted.

Ted was unconscious and bloody. His face was quickly swelling and his right arm looked broken. John was sitting on his chest, fists bloody and panting heavily.

"Dad?"

John looked at his son and nodded. They both knew what had happened.

"We need to find him," Dean said.

"I know…" John said. He flipped his cell open and made an anonymous call to the police. "First, we need to deal with this trash."

---

Binah and Keyah quickly climbed the staircase to the first floor. "Zareb's put him in the living room," Binah said.

When they entered, Zareb looked up and gave a small smile. "Hey, Keyah."

Keyah nodded in acknowledgement before walking around to the other side of the couch to assess the boy.

He was trembling hard, most likely from a comination of pain and fear. His clothes were bloody and he was curled into himself, seemingly trying to bury himself into the back of the couch.

"Get some blankets for him," Keyah said as she took Zareb's place by the boy's side. "And bring me some warm water and a clean towel. This boy needs to be cleaned off. What's his name?"

"I think it's Sam," Zareb said.

Keyah gave Zareb a strange look; one that Zareb found himself frowning at. "What?"

Keyah shook her head. "Nothing. Now, go!"

When Binah and Zareb left to gather the things Keyah requested, Keyah leaned forward and gently placed a hand on Sam's forehead. Sam whimpered and tried to twist away from the touch, but Keyah was stronger then she looked and held Sam down. "Calm down, child... I'm not gonna hurt you."

Sam opened his eyes to look at the woman pleadingly, but she remained un-teetered. A tear fell as Sam brought his free hand and tried to push the offending arm away.

"Nah ah ah..." She grabbed Sam's arm and pinned it down next to him.

Sam squirmed under her grip, feeling trapped and so much smaller than he actually was. "P-please..." he begged

She pressed down harder on his head, ignoring his fearful whimpers and weak struggles.

"Y-you're hurting me..." Sam whimpered.

"Keyah?"

Keyah quickly removed her hands as Zareb entered the room with a bowl of water and a towel. "Is this good?"

"Yes... that'll do just fine."

Zareb looked down at Sam, who had curled back up and seemed to be shaking harder than he was before. Zareb frowned. "What happened?"

"Nothing... I'm sure having yet another person near is terrifying for him..."

Zareb gave an unsure nod before he handed Keyah the water and towel and said, "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Tell your mother to hurry up with those blankets!" Keyah chided. "This boy may be going into shock..."

Zareb nodded and ran off after his mother. When he was gone, Keyah grabbed the towel and soaked it in the warm water. She wrung out the excess water and carefully started to wipe the blood from Sam's face. Sam whimpered at the touch and tried to turn away from it, but Keyah just held his shoulders down and kept cleaning him.

Zareb and Binah quickly returned with the blankets. Keyah stopped while Zareb lay them over Sam and minutely tucked him in. "Anything else?" Zareb asked.

Keyah sighed in frustration as Sam continued to shy away from her. "Yes..." She scooted her chair over. "Bring up a chair and see if you can help me clean this boy off. We need to have him clean before we can treat any of his wounds and he's not cooperating with me."

Zareb brought a chair up and took the towel from Keyah. He soaked it in water and wrung it out again before gently laying a hand on Sam's head. "I need to clean you off, 'kay?" When Sam didn't respond, Zareb carefully wiped the towel on Sam's face and started to wipe off the dried blood.

Keyah and Binah watched in amazement as Sam seemed to calm to Zareb's ministrations. His shaking reduced to a tremble and his body became less tense. By the time Zareb was almost finished cleaning Sam's face, Sam had almost completely uncurled himself, letting Zareb have complete control.

"Alright," Keyah said. "I need you to clean the boy off as much as you can. Legs, torso, everything. Keep changing the water and try to keep it warm. I want you to come get me when you're done."

"Okay," Zareb said.

Once Keyah and Binah left, Zareb went back to cleaning Sam off. He grabbed a pair of scissors and carefully cut off Sam's shirt, hissing in sympathy when he had to pull the material away from places it was stuck to his skin. But even as Zareb began to clean off Sam's chest, Sam remained unmoving. He remained limp and simply let Zareb take care of him. However, the silence and blank stare were starting to unnerve Zareb, so he tried to strike up a conversation. He pointed to Sam's hand and said, "You still holding on to that thing?"

Sam's eyes momentarily shifted to the hand that held the pendant. "Yeah," he croaked out.

"I know you don't want me to see it..." Zareb went on, trying to keep the conversation live, "but can you at least tell me what it is?"

Sam brought his fist up to his face and slowly opened it. He stared at the gold pendant; the strange smile the head had, the small horns... Sam shook his head. "All I have..."

"You said that before..." Zareb re-soaked the towel. "Where's your fam'ly?"

Sam frowned at the question. His family... Could Ted and Lori possibly be considered his family, or simply his benefactors? "B-back at the house..." he mumbled.

Zareb paused in his cleaning and sighed. "Hey kid?" Sam looked at him. "You wanna tell me who did this to you?" he asked, pointing at the lacerations that were evident on Sam's sides and back.

Sam took in a shaky breath and shrugged. "My foster parents."

"'Foster?'" Zareb questioned with a frown. "What about your real ones?"

Sam frowned. "I don' remember them."

"Ah..." Zareb continued to clean Sam's wounds. "I see... So who're your foster parents?"

"Ted... and L-Lori."

Zareb froze. "Holmes?"

Sam gave Zareb a confused look. "Y-yeah. I guess..."

Zareb scoffed. "That bastard and his bitch..." He smiled at Sam's shocked look. "Yeah, I know them. Don't worry, I'm not gonna give you back to them or nothing." Zareb shook his head angrily. "I knew they were racists bastards but _this_...! This is _low_, even for them. I mean, look at you! Your back looks like some nigger slave's, back two hundred years ago!" Zareb shook his head angrily. "Bastards," he mumbled as he continued to clean Sam again.

Sam grabbed Zareb's wrist. Zareb gave Sam a look of surprise. "I-I can do it..." Sam said.

Zareb raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

Sam hesitated for a moment. "Well... I c-could use some help..."

Zareb smiled. He let Sam take the towel and helped Sam into sitting position. "How old are you, Sam?"

"S-sixteen..." Sam winced as he gingerly pressed the towel to his side and started to wipe off the blood.

"Really? I thought you'd be more like eighteen or nineteen. I'm twenty myself... You okay for a moment?" Sam nodded. "I'm gonna change this water." Zareb stood and quickly went to change the water.

Sam stopped cleaning himself for a minute and pondered the situation. He didn't really understand where he was or what was going on, but Zareb seemed to make everything clearer. He felt unusually _safe_ around Zareb. Something about him was just so _familiar..._

But there was still a deep loneliness and fear nestled deep in himself. The need to disappear, to run away and become invisible, was still ingrained deep into his psyche and it took his entire will power not to just curl into a ball again and ignore the world.

"Sam?"

Sam looked up at the man's face. He was trying to look non-caring, even annoyed, but Sam could see the concern there as well. As long as Zareb was here... Sam thinks he can endure.

At least for now.

* * *

**Okay, this was so-so written chapter...**

**Remember to take my poll! Message me if you want any of your votes changed!  
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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**This chapter is so-so written. My mind is currently soaked in ideas for Lightness and Darkness so sorry if this chapter seems... empty, for lack of a better adjective :P  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter nine!**

* * *

**One Week Later**

Dean slammed his fist on the table. "This is ridiculous!" he yelled. "It's like trying to find a needle in a haystack!"

"Dean, calm down..."

"Don't tell me to calm down! It's been over a _week_ since anyone's seen Sam! He could be lying dead in a ditch for all we know!" Dean growled in frustration and punched a hole in the old drywall.

"Dean!" John shouted. "Getting angry is not going to help us find him faster!"

Dean sighed. "I know. It's just... We can track any supernatural being within five days. Why is it so hard to find Sam?"

John sat back in his chair. "I have a theory..."

Dean frowned. "What?"

"This is purely speculation, but that being that was keeping us captive before..."

"You think she might be interfering now?"

"Most likely."

"Fucking bitch..."

John raised an eyebrow in agreement. "What we have to figure out now, is how to find Sam anyway..."

---

She smiled. "You go ahead and try. But trust me, you'll only be able to find Sam when I want you to. And when you do, the last thing you're gonna see before I destroy you, is his broken body."

---

Sam gasped awake, his heart racing, his skin shiny from a thin coat of sweat, and his body shaking hard. He closed his eyes and clutched his head, trying to think of anything, anything but the cold, empty room with nothing but Ted and Ken for company. They wouldn't stop hurting him... they wouldn't stop _touching_ him... _please stop! Please, I'll do anything, just stop!_

Sam sobbed as the images assaulted him again and again, giving him no reprieve or mercy. He begged what ever deity may be out there to please take them away. He'd do anything for them just to go away.

"Sam?"

Sam hiccuped at the sudden noise. "Zareb?" he whimpered.

Zareb sat on the bed next to him and placed a hand on his head. "Another nightmare?"

Sam nodded, his sobs coming out harder, making it hard to breathe.

"Hey, hey! Calm down..." Zareb grabbed the glass of water on the nightstand and held it to Sam. "Drink this and breathe."

Sam took the glass with shaking hands and slowly brought the glass to his lips. He drank a few swallows before the rest of the glass fell down his shirt.

"Alright..." Zareb took the glass back and rubbed Sam's back. "All ya gotta do now is breathe."

Sam closed his eyes and tried to calm his sobs, but the men just kept coming back to haunt him.

"C'mon Sam... Breathe!"

Sam shook his head, panic starting to take hold. "Z-Z-aa-r-reb..." he begged out of his oxygen-deprived lungs.

"Alright..." Zareb struck Sam hard on his back, making Sam cough harshly. Zareb repeated the action until Sam's breathing started to come under control. "Sam?"

Sam nodded. "'M okay now..." he croaked out.

Zareb raised the glass. "I'll get you some more water."

"Thanks," Sam whispered as Zareb left the room. He shuddered as the images flashed before him again, though not as intensely.

It was getting worse, every night, worse. First he had nightmares about Ted and Lori, then about the rape he witnessed and almost became victim of, then of the dreaded closet, which bore all his nightmares and fears, which taunted him again and again, tortureing him infinitely. And as these nightmares got worse, so did Sam's condition. Oh, his body was healing great! His bruises had faded to yellow and green, his cuts were all healing nicely and so on. But Sam became increasingly withdrawn, even from Zareb.

Zareb returned with the water and handed it to Sam. Sam took it gratefully and quickly gulped it down. He sat the empty glass on the nightstand and said, "Can I go back to sleep now?"

Zareb stared at Sam worriedly for a moment before nodding. "Sure." Zareb got up and left, closing the door behind him.

Sam lay on his side and closed his eyes. He honestly didn't know what was worse, being asleep with the nightmares, or being awake where the nightmares are all too real.

---

Dean and John were at the ends of their ropes now. They didn't dare leave the town. They both instinctively knew that Sam was still there, just not within sight.

They were going house to house now with pictures of Sam, asking them if they'd seem him, heard of him, knew _anything_ related to him.

They moved systematically from neighborhood to neighborhood. John was working from the north, Dean was working from the south. They hoped that they would have some clue as to where Sam was before they met in the middle.

Dean was working through the Holmes' neighborhood now. He felt bile rise to his throat as he passed their yellow-tapped house. How could one couple be so twisted?

Soon after they were arrested, Theodore had commited suicide by drinking rubbing alcohol. Lori was soon after committed to an asylum, where they hoped she could be helped and put back into society as a working member of it.

Dean shook his head as he continued pass the house. He sorely wished he could have killed that Theodore guy himself. Suicide was too good for that bastard.

He felt a little sorry about the way he had treated Lori before. He later found out that her husband and his friends raped and beat her on a regular basis. _Given her situation, I'm sure she did the best she could with Sam._ Dean thought guiltily.

Dean knocked on the next house's door. A few seconds later, a middle-aged man answered. "Yes?"

"Hi, I'm, uh... Looking for my brother." Dean held up a picture of himself and Sam that was about a year old. "He's been missing for about a week now..."

The man looked at the photo curiously before shaking his head. "Sorry. Don' recognize 'im."

Dean sighed. "Alright. Thank you." He turned around and proceeded down the walkway.

The man smiled and said, "I hope you find him!"

Dean turned back and gave a non-convincing smile. "Yeah, me too."

---

John rang the doorbell of the twenty-seventh house that day. He was worn down, and just plain exhausted. His voice was growing monotone, all hope of trying to find his son starting to leak out from him.

A young woman in her mid-thirties opened the door. "Can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm looking for my son," John held out Sam's photo. "He disappeared about a week ago..."

The woman stared at the picture for a moment before her eyes widened. "Sam?!"

John's head snapped up. "You've seen him?!"

The woman looked warily at John. "Sam doesn't have a family."

"No, you have to understand," John said desperately. "Our deaths were a mistake! We didn't die!" When the woman still looked unconvinced, John dug for his journal. "Look..." He pulled out a picture of him and his sons sitting on the Impala. It was a few years old, but Sam still looked like Sam. He handed it to the woman, who took it and studied it carefully, her eyes flicking from the photo to the man. After a few moments, she smiled. "oh my god..."

"Where's my son?" John practically begged.

"He's..." She pointed up the staircase. "He's here."

John almost collapsed with relief. "Oh, thank god...!"

The woman stepped back and said, "Please come in."

"One moment..." John flipped out his cell and quickly called Dean, to let him know that he found Sam.

"Who was that?" the woman asked after John hung up.

"My other son, Dean. He should be here in about ten minutes."

John came in and looked hesitantly up the stairs. He wasn't sure how to approach this. How would Sam react to him? Would Sam even believe it? Or would he assume he was some sort of shapeshifter?

The woman held her hand out. "Binah Kambulu."

John blinked at the gesture before taking the offered hand. "John Winchester."

Binah smiled. "I think I should warn you... Sam's not in very good shape."

John frowned. "What do you mean?"

"He's pretty beat up. We think his foster parents abused him. He's also not really interacting or talking to anyone. Well, except for Zareb."

"Zareb?"

"My son. He's the only one Sam really talks to. Though... over the last few days, Sam's even started to withdraw from Zareb."

John ran a hand over his face, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, and he hadn't even seen him yet.

"Would you like to see him?" Binah asked.

John nodded uncertainly. "Yes."

---

Sam whimpered in his sleep as he tossed and turned. The sheets of the bed clung to his sweat coated body, wrapping him in an unwanted cocoon.

A woman stood over Sam ready to commence her final act of her revenge.

* * *

**What'd you guys think? Honestly please! Really, if you don't like something, IT'S NOT GOING TO CHANGE UNLESS YOU TELL ME!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW! THE DRAGON'S HUNGRY!  
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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**This chapter's a bit short, but quite a bit happens and I thought it would be good place to stop XD  
**

**I have a new poll on my profile. I'm going to be really busy starting next week and might be updating less often. So I was just wondering if there were any fics in particular you wanted me to work on more than the others. VOTE AND LET ME KNOW!**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter ten!**

* * *

Binah led John up the stairs, John trailing several steps behind. _What should I do if he doesn't believe it's me? I can't just leave him here! Not when I just found him..._

Binah placed a hand on the doorknob and turned to John. "Ready?"

John took a deep breath and nodded.

---

Sam struggled and whimpered against the much too strong hands. One was held painfully over his mouth while the other held a knife to his throat.

A fleshy mouth was pressed to his ear and it whispered, "Time for daddy to pay for what he did to my sisters."

"Keyah!?"

Keyah looked up and smirked at the sight of the surprised Binah, and the enraged John Winchester. "Look who's come to grace us, Sammy..."

Sam looked up with fear-filled eyes. Binah and another man were standing in the doorway.

"It's you..." John growled.

Keyah chuckled. "How perceptive of you, John!"

"Keyah..." Binah said. "What on earth are you doing!?"

"Well, you see Binah, 'Keyah' is just one of my many names. Just as this visage is one of many."

Binah stepped back, a new fear being born. "What are you?"

"A witch," John spat. "You're a witch."

Keyah smiled. "Hmm, yes... but the question is... do you recognize me?"

For a moment, the old woman disappeared, showing a young sexy brunette. But as soon as it was there, the old woman was back, her smirk driving icicles into the spectator's hearts.

John's eyes widened. "That's impossible... You died with the rest of your clan!"

"Wrong! I was wounded! You and your friends missed my heart. Some people found me soon after you left and rushed me to the hospital. And I lived. One by one... I destroyed the hunters the murdered my sisters. But I couldn't find you, so I turned into an old honest nurse..." She pressed the knife against Sam's throat, a thin line of blood appearing. "But, now it's your turn..."

"No!" John shouted. He quickly pulled out his .45 and aimed it at Keyah's head. "Get away from my son, you bitch!"

Sam frowned. _Son...?_ He looked at the man closely. But no matter how hard he looked, he didn't recognize him.

"Not so fast, John..." Keyah pressed a knee into Sam's back, making him whimper in pain.

"Let go of him..." John growled, "Or your head's gonna get packed with lead."

"Interesting test of power... Or speed. Which is faster? Your trigger finger? Or my wrist?"

For several moments, no one moved. Then, getting bored, Keyah grabbed Sam's hair and pulled his head back. Sam gasped at the awkward position he was forced in. "Look at him, John. This is your beloved _son_."

John swallowed hard. Sam looked _awful_. His face and arms told of signs of beatings and abuse. His hair was dirty, flat, and unkempt. His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, dark bags hanging under them. His eyes, themselves, were filled with untold terror and despair.

"I'm gonna kill you, you _bitch!_"

Keyah opened her mouth to say something suddenly stopped. She started to gag, globs of blood pouring out of her mouth. She abruptly dropped Sam onto the bed, who remained still except for his fearful trembles.

Keyah's knife fell out of her hand as she gripped her throat. Binah covered her face and looked away as John lowered his weapon. "What the...?"

"Pl-lease..." she choked out. She fell to her knees and looked up at John with pleading eyes. "H-hurtssss..."

John looked at her with disgust. "And how do you think my son felt when he was being beaten by his foster parents?"

Keyah's eyes rolled back until only whites were showing as she fell to the ground, dead.

John sighed as he put his weapon away and ran to his son. "Sam!" He carefully grabbed Sam's arms and pulled his trembling son into sitting position. John shushed his son as Sam whimpered at the contact. "It's okay, Sam... It's just me..."

Sam looked at John with glassy eyes. He started to struggle against John's grip. "Wh-ho are you...?! P-please don' hurt m-me...!"

"Sam, it's me!" John instinctively gripped Sam tighter, trying to make his son calm down. "It's Dad...!"

"N-no!" Sam yelled hysterically. He bucked and dislodged himself from John's grip, scooting himself backward across the bed. "Pl-lease don't hurt me..." He curled up in fetal position in the corner and started to sob.

John started shaking himself. His son was scared of him. His son didn't _recognize_ him...

"Dad!"

John turned towards the doorway where a young man, presumably Zareb, and Dean were standing. Dean stared in horror at the bod, then at his brother. "Sammy..." Dean stepped towards the bed and sat next to his fahter. "Sammy?"

Sam peaked out from his curled position and frowned at the newcomer. He seemed... _familiar._ Slowly, Sam uncurled himself and crawled over to him. He looked at him with a confused, tearstained face. He raised a shaking hand and slowly traced the man's face. He ghosted over his eyes and nose, mapping out every freckle and tiny scar.

"D-Dean?"

* * *

**What'd you guys think? Honestly please! Really, if you don't like something, IT'S NOT GOING TO CHANGE UNLESS YOU TELL ME!**

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	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**This chapter's a bit short, but quite a bit happens and I thought it would be good place to stop XD  
**

**OMG! It's been FOREVER since I've updated! And I am SOOOO sorry for that! I've just been so busy with work I haven't really been able to update! I hope you can forgive me :( I hope to get back to regular updating really soon!  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter eleven!**

* * *

Dean cradled Sam's head in his hands, tears blurring his vision. "Oh god, Sammy..."

Sam blindly gripped the strong arms in front of him. He frowned slightly at the man. "Who a-are you...?"

Dean froze. "It's me, Dean!"

"Dean..." Sam repeated. Tears filled his eyes at the word. But he shook his head. "I-I like Dean..." he said to himself. "I like it..."

Dean ran a hand through Sam's hair. "Sammy?"

Sam jerked at the nickname. "Sam," he insisted.

Dean smiled. He leaned forward and rested his chin on Sam's head. "Yup... my Sammy."

Binah looked at the sight with wonder. "I take it this is your other son, Dean," she said to John.

John nodded, never taking his eyes away from his sons. "Yeah..."

Binah looked back at Keyah. "What on earth's going on...?"

Zareb slowly walked up and placed his hands on Keyah's neck. "I'm just glad she's dead," he whispered.

"How can you say that?!" Binah cried. "Keyah's been a part of this family for years now...!"

Zareb laughed. "Yeah, and I thought she was a nut ball! Teaching me things, showing me..." Zareb's voice pettered off.

Binah frowned. "'Showing you'? Showing you what?"

Zareb looked at the brothers and shook his head. "Nevermind."

"Don't you 'nevermind' me! What are you talking about?!" Binah yelled.

Zareb looked at his mother angrily. "We met her, _randomly_ in a store! She mentioned she didn't have anywhere to live, so you brought her in. When I _told _you that she was hurting me, you told me to stop overreacting and _apologize_!"

Binah's eyes widened. "Oh my god..."

Zareb shook his head. "The reason she's dead now... is because I killed her. With what she taught me."

Dean made a quick mental count of all the bruises and cuts that covered Sam's too-thin body. "We need to get you out of here..." Dean whispered.

Sam suddenly jerked away from Dean's grip. "N-no!"

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "It's okay! We're just gonna take you out to the Impala!"

Sam froze. "'Pala...?" Sam looked around confused, as though he was thinking it through. "Home."

Dean smiled. "That's right." He placed an arm carefully around his brother's shoulders. "Let's get you outta here."

Sam gripped the front of Dean's shirt tentatively as Dean helped him stand up. But when he stood, his knees immediately started to buckle.

"Whoa! Dad, a little help," Dean said.

John stepped forward, eager to help his son, but froze when Sam shrank away from him. "N-no...! I-I'll be go-ood!" Sam buried his face into Dean's shoulder. "Please don't hurt me..." he begged quietly.

Dean gave his father a sympathetic look as he wrapped his arms around Sam and gave him a gentle squeeze. "Let's go, Sammy..." Dean eased Sam away from his chest so they could start heading towards the stairs.

John closed his eyes and sighed. The urge to just _kill_ something threatened to overwhelm him. The state his son was in made John want to bring Ted _and _Lori back and kill them for all it was worth.

Well, them and that witch.

John looked down at the body. Zareb had risen and stuck a hand in his pocket, fishing for something. When he held his palm out for his mother, John gasped. "Where did you get those?!"

Zareb jumped at the sudden outburst from the older man. "I-I got them from Keyah..." Zareb turned back to his mother. "This... is how I killed her."

Binah gave her son a look of disbelief. "You can't honestly expect me to believe that a pile of _bones..._"

"Why else would she suddenly bleed from her mouth as her lungs liquify?" Zareb asked tersely.

Binah frowned. "How do you know _that_?"

"Because I _cast_ the spell, Mama!"

Binah shook her head. "No. That's impossible. There's no such thing."

Zareb stared at his mother with plea. "Mama, _please..._"

Binah pointed a finger down the stairs. "Get out."

Zareb's eyes widened with shock. "What...?"

"Get out. I'm not going to have you spewing this rubbish in my house and disgracing Keyah."

"Disgracing Keyah! Look at what she did! At what she was about to -- !"

"GET OUT!" Binah shrieked.

"C'mon, son," John said, placing a hand on Zareb's arm. "Let's go."

Zareb shot John an angry glare before his expression melted to despair. He turned back to his mother. "Mama..."

Binah turned around and ran to her room, slamming the door shut behind her. Zareb flinched at the unspoken statement. She was shutting him out. "I-I don't understand..." Zareb said.

John slowly urged Zareb to go outside. "Some people can't handle certain realities. And they deal with them in different ways. Your mother's way of dealing with the supernatural is apparently ignoring it and placing blame."

When they stepped outside, they saw Sam sitting with his legs hanging out of the Impala while staring at his brother with curiosity. Dean was pouring more antiseptic on a random shirt and carefully wiping the new cut on Sam's neck.

John sighed sadly. "While Sam's way of dealing with the death of his family was simply to forget them," he said quietly to himself.

Zareb also looked at the brothers and sighed. "You may want to take him to a doctor," he said slowly. "Sam absolutely refused to let us take him to a hospital when we found him; he seemed afraid of it. But I think it would be for his best interest if you get him checked out."

John smiled. He stuck a hand out to Zareb. "Thank you so much for taking care of my son."

Zareb gladly took the hand and said, "It's no problem. He obviously needed the help." Zareb looked back at his house sadly.

John nodded. "Still. You've lost your home because of it."

Zareb shrugged, pushing his own emotions to the side. "My mom was gonna find out eventually. I wouldn't have been able to hide the scars forever."

John nodded slowly, not asking for an explanation. "Do you need a lift somewhere?"

Zareb shook his head. "Nah. This may be conservative-city, but I got a friend that I can crash with for a few nights. I already got my diploma, so I should be fine."

John smiled. "Alright. Take care of yourself."

Zareb smiled back. "You, too. And take care of Sam."

* * *

**I know, not much Sam and Dean but that's ALL there's gonna be next chapter! So... patience! XD**

**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! REVIEWS MAKE ME HAPPY! FEED THE DRAGON!  
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	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P**

**Alright, this chapter came SO naturally! The italics part is based on my experiences when my father died when I was seven. I know a seven year old girl is not the same as a sixteen year old boy, but it's only BASED. So if anything in that part seems wrong as far as procedure goes, that's probably because i just made it up :P  
**

**Enjoy chapter Ten!**

**

* * *

**

"Where we going, Dad?" Dean asked a little earnestly.

"Hospital," was all John said.

Dean looked into the rear-view mirror. Sam was barely managing to sit up straight in his seat. He was swaying so badly, it made Dean feel sick. "How you doing, buddy?"

Sam looked up a little wide eyed at the sudden question. "Fine," he said quietly. He extended a hand and gripped the seat in front of him tightly, his fingers being lightly brushed by the back of Dean's shoulder.

Dean noticed Sam's hand and turned around in his seat. Sam gasped and quickly removed his hand, thinking Dean was angry with him. Dean shook his head with a smile and reached over to grab Sam's trembling hand. It was bruised and the knuckles were bloody. Dean could tell without a second glance that one of the fingers was broken. He forced another smile and said, "You're gonna be okay."

Even though Sam was more confused than ever, the words were oddly reassuring and _believable_. He closed his eyes and relaxed, tentatively gripping the hand that encased his.

"This should be it," John said, pulling into a parking lot.

Dean turned his head around and almost laughed in relief. Now Sam could get the treatment he needs in a safe place where he and his father could try to help Sam deal with all the trauma.

Suddenly his hand was being squeezed. Hard. Dean turned around and saw Sam staring at the hospital, the small amount of unmarred skin on his face nearly white. "Sammy? What's wrong?"

Sam shook his head hard, yanking his hand out of Dean's. "Can't go in there...!" Sam said panicked. "Can't, can't, can't!"

"SAM!" Dean yelled as Sam grabbed the door and flung it open. "Dad, stop the car!"

John slammed the brakes, cursing under his breath. Dean flung the door open and ran after his brother. "Sam!"

Dean didn't really have to worry. Sam only made it a few steps on pure adrenaline before he collapsed on the asphalt. His body was limp except for the persistent shaking and his tightly clenched fists. Dean knelt by his brother and cradled his head in his hands. "Shh, Shh, buddy... it's okay..."

Sam shook his head, tears falling down his face unheeded. "C-can't go in..."

John ran up and knelt by his sons. "You got him, Dean?" Dean gave an affirmative nod, which John returned before he stood and ran to the hospital entrance to get help.

Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair. "Why can't you go in?"

Sam brought his fists up and pressed them hard against his eyes. "I-I don' wanna see them ag-gain..."

Dean frowned. "See who? Sam..." Dean gently grabbed Sam's fists and held them in his hands. He made sure Sam was looking at him when he asked again, "See _who?_"

Sam almost sobbed. Something in the back of his mind threatened to surface, but the closer he got, the more it hurt; the more it pulled on his heart and shredded his sanity. 

_See who?_

He started to get light-headed, his body feeling leaden and _thick_. His vision blackened and his eyes sunk, the comforting face above him slowly disappearing.

_See who?_

The question wouldn't let it go. It dug through his mind, ripping it it apart, scavenging for the information it needed. Sam managed to look at the floating face above him one last time before the darkness took over.

"Help... m-me_..."_

---

_The man sighed. He had no face. His face didn't matter. It was just a man, doing his job. He meant absolutely nothing._

_"This is all that was salvageable," he said, indicating the table. "Besides those things, everything else is scrape."_

_Sam looked almost dispassionately at the items on the table. There were clothing, old, worn, useless. There were old photos that had so much blood on them the images have been warped. Besides that there were only useless pieces of junk that meant nothing, had no shape or form in Sam's mind. They were nothing._

_"What about what they were wearing?" Sam asked._

_The man blinked. "I'm sorry?"_

_"The clothes and stuff my dad and brother were wearing when they... when they crashed."_

_The man shook his head. "All of those are torn and have bloodstains all over them. You won't -- "_

_"Can I see?" Sam asked, more of a terse command than a request._

_The man sighed. "Alright, I'll be right back."_

_No time passed. As soon as the man said this, he was walking in, two buckets in his hands. "It's not like they need this stuff anymore. It's not a mystery what happened," the man said. "You can have whatever of this you want."_

_Two buckets. For two dead. They were even labeled._

_Winchester, John R._

_Winchester, Dean  
_  
_What was essentially left of his family, was stored in two buckets. Suddenly Sam didn't want to open them. It would be like opening something private, opening _them_. It just wasn't right..._

_But having what's left of them burn in an incinerator? Because that's what's bound to happen if Sam didn't lay claim to any of it._

_His stomach threatening to rebel, Sam grabbed the bucket with Dean's name and slowly took off the lid. He gasped and involuntarily covered his nose at the smell of blood. Upon realizing he had done this, Sam immediately put his hands down and took a deep breath, trying very hard not to cry._

_He grabbed the first article of clothing, which was the leather jacket their dad had given to Dean for his sixteenth birthday._

_For a moment, Sam thought, _What was my sixteenth birthday present...?_ He honestly thought about it for a moment, then realized his father didn't even remember his sixteenth birthday. Dean did though. He tried to pop Sam cherry that night, claiming it was a rite of passage. When he finally gave up, he gave Sam a book he had wanted and even bought a cake to celebrate._

_Sam smiled at the memory as he stared at the jacket._

Plop. Plop.

_Sam closed his eyes. _The ceiling must have leak, _he thought as he shoved Dean's jacket into his face. He took a couple deep breathes and managed to regain his composure. He slipped the bloodied, but unharmed jacket on and dumped the rest of the contents of the bucket out._

Clink.

_Sam stared at it for a moment. Dean's amulet. The one Sam had given him the Christmas he discovered the reality of the family job. He picked it up and stared at it close up. Dark patches of dried blood were stuck in a couple small crevices of the amulet. Ignoring them, he put the amulet on and turned to the man. "Can I see my family."_

_The man frowned. At least, Sam thinks he did. He probably did, considering his response. "Don't you want to look through your father's things?"_

_Sam just shrugged. "I wanna see my family."_

_The man shook his head. "I don't think -- "_

_"I haven't seen them in weeks and now I may never see them again," Sam almost shouted. "I wanna see them."_

_The man sighed again. "Wait one moment."_

_Again, no time passed between the statement, and the man's answer. "Come with me."_

_They walked through the hospital. It was both the shortest and longest walk Sam ever knew, yet he had no memory of it. One moment he had been looking through his brother's things and then the next, he was in a room, the man talking to another. The silent talk barely registering in Sam's head._

_Sam's body was hot, swollen, heavy as he peered in the room. He suddenly seemed distant from his body, looking from above at the hallway grew and his body shrunk. _  
_  
In the room, there was a gurney. A body lay there, a tube across its face, having once supplied wasted oxygen. The sheets were white and clean, obviously recently replaced. The face cleaned and unnaturally yellow, the hair blonde and recently cleaned. It had been Dean's body._

_Suddenly Sam was back in his body, the man talking to him. "Time for you to say goodbye," he said, indicating the body._

_Sam shook his head. He didn't want anything to do with that body. It was an empty shell. Nothing more. Nothing less. Sam could care less what happened to it. It didn't mean anything to him anymore. Not anymore._

_Dean was gone.  
_

* * *

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	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P**

**Unfortunately, i will be absent for a little bit, so the next update probably won't be for another couple of weeks. I'm so, so, so, sorry, i'll try to make up for it then!  
**

**Enjoy chapter thirteen!**

* * *

Dean paced back and forth in the waiting area, ignoring all the crying children and the stink of drunk men. He didn't know why Sam collapsed, but his mind filled with all sorts of horrible thoughts. They didn't know the full extent of Ted's abuse, but it was obvious extensive.

_Self-righteous bastard,_ Dean cursed. _What right did he have treating his wife and child (even foster) with such degrading acts?_ Dean blinked. _What the hell? 'Degrading acts'? Since when do I use college speech..._ Dean shook his head.

"Dean, sit down before you fall down," John ordered.

Dean glared at his father. "I just need to _do_ something..." Dean grumbled as he continued to pace.

"Pacing isn't going to make Sam get better any faster," John stated.

Dean stopped pacing and gave his father a sly look. "You're right." He sat down next to him and smirked. "So tell me, who exactly was that witch?"

John's body stiffened a little. "It was a hunt gone wrong," John whispered. "I dealt with it wrong."

Dean shook his head in disbelief. "This is coming from the man who doesn't let _anything_ get away?! How the heck did she give you the slip?!"

John sighed. "Dean..."

"Family for Sam Winchester?" a doctor announced.

Dean's head shot up and he quickly went up to the doctor with his father not far behind. "How is he?"

"Let's go to a private room," the doctor said.

Dean had to consciously not blow up at the doctor. But his impatience to know how his brother was doing and to see him was making him a might edgy.

The doctor led them to a small office, where he indicated the Winchesters sit. As soon as he was seated across from them, he began. "I'm Dr. Choi. I'm responsible for Sam's recovery."

"How's he doing?" John asked impatiently.

"He's in no danger," Dr. Choi said, to John and Dean's deep relief. "However his injuries were extensive. The only reason he passed out, I suspect, is from pain and malnuitrition."

"What injuries exactly?" Dean asked.

"Well, he had many bruises and minor lacerations. His back had more serious ones that suggest he's been beaten with something akin to a belt. A few have been infected so we have him on antibiotics. His foot, three ribs, his index finger on his right hand, and three fingers on his left have been broken. Overall, I think six weeks, give or take, before full recovery. Physical recovery anyway. Unfortunately, there are also some signs of sexual abuse."

The blood drained from the Winchesters' faces. "You mean...?" Dean uttered fearfully.

"He wasn't raped, from what we can tell," Dr. Choi said. "But there's bruising around his groin and between his thighs. Emotionally, Sam has a long way to go."

"Well, we'll be there ever step of the way," Dean said with dead seriousness.

The doctor closed his eyes and gave a long sigh. "Unfortunately, not immediately."

John frowned. "Meaning what?"

The doctor sighed again. "Sam has obviously suffered sever abuse, borderline torture. Since you are his guardian and family, you are not allowed to see him until you have been seen by members of the CPS."

"What?!" Dean exclaimed. "We've _never _hurt Sam! The person responsible for Sam's condition is that fucking Ted Holmes!"

Dr. Choi raised an eyebrow. "The one who recently committed suicide?"

"Yes!" Dean said. "Look, it's kinda complicated, but -- "

"There was a mistake and we were believed to be dead," John said. "Sam was placed in the foster system and eventually fostered by Theodore and Lorinthia Holmes. He beat and raped his wife on a regular basis, is it really that hard to believe he abused a foster kid as well?"

_So not _that_ complicated, _Dean thought wistfully.

For a moment, Dr. Choi said nothing. "I'll have to check you story," he said carefully. "But if you're truthful, then you may see Sam."

"I don't suppose there's anyway to convince you to let us see him now?"

The doctor shook his head. "Sam will be unconscious for at least a few more hours. He's on painkillers, which make him very drousy, so I doubt his body will want to wake up anytime soon."

John closed his eyes, knowing arguing would just make them seem more suspicious. "Alright, just please check out our story _quickly._"

Dr. Choi smiled. "I'll let you know as soon as I'm done." His smile then faded. "Although, this means that Sam not only has to recover from the abuse he's suffered, but from the reality that his family was dead."

---

Sam felt like he was... floating. The constant heaviness of pain was absent and Sam simply felt _free_.

When Sam opened his eyes, for one insane moment, he wondered if he had died and gone to heaven. All he could see was a bright whiteness.

But then his eye sight started to focus and he could see the cracks between the ceiling panels. When he tried to sit up, his vision momentarily blackened and his head spun. He blinked several times as he clutched his head.

When his vision once again cleared, he looked around his surroundings. He was sitting in a bed, wearing a white gown with blue dots. There was an IV sticking out of the back of his hand. Annoying, bothersome...

Sam carefully pulled the IV out, ignoring the small discharge of blood that came out after it. Small whispers echoed in the room, indistiguishable and terrifying. Sam shook as he flipped the covers off of him and got off the bed. His eyes teared at the pain that shot up his legs and back. Sam looked down and he realized that his leg was wrapped in a clunky cast. A brief self-examination revealed wrappings around his chest and fingers and bandages on several regions of his body.

The pain constant, but dull enough to manage, Sam slowly made his way to the door, the whispers getting louder and the spidery pattern of his mind getting out of control.

Sam frowned. Everything was... different. It was the same but... _different_. Or maybe Sam was just seeing clearly for the first time. Maybe the reality he was seeing he always saw...

Sam shook his head. Allowing his mind to go blank, Sam wandered through the hallway.

_What are you doing out of that closet!?_

Sam gasped and fell into a crouch. He scrambled to a small, unnoticeable corner and curled up tight into it, making himself as invisible as possible.

_C'mere, you disobedient little shit!_

Sam whimpered as he felt his arm being grabbed in a bruising hold. He clutched his head and cried, his free hand blindly grasping for the amulet that he didn't even notice wasn't there.

_It's little bitches like you that make this world a hellhole! And it's people like me that have to make sure you know where your place is._

Sam nodded, he desperately nodded, agreeing with every word the man uttered. But it didn't matter. The pain still came and the words still pierced. He whimpered lightly as he tried to make himself smaller, crushing himself into the small corner.

"Sam?"

Sam flinched and curled on himself further.

Footsteps echoed on the floor as someone came near him. "Sammy! What are you doing out here?"

His body still shaking Sam looked up at the new presence that interrupted his nightmare. The recognition was immediate.

"Dean!" Sam practically leapt up and flung his arms around the young man's neck.

Dean grunted in surprise. "Sam..." Dean hesitantly wrapped his arms around Sam. "Good to see you too, buddy."

Sam didn't know why, but this man was a source of comfort. When he was there, the whispers weren't quite as loud and the feeling of grime all over his skin seemed to fade.

Dean looked over his shoulder at his father, who had a worried expression on his face. Dean rubbed Sam's back, suddenly very much aware of how much his skeletal body was trembling. Dean's worry jumped up a few notches when Sam buried his face in his big brother's neck and started to sob, something Sam hadn't done since he was a little kid, still scared of the monster under his bed and in his nightmares.

Suddenly Dr. Choi was running over to them. He slowed and sighed in relief when he found his patient. "Sam wasn't in his room," he said breathlessly. "I had hoped he was looking for you."

John shook his head. "I don't think he was."

"What do you mean?" the doctor asked.

"We just found him here," Dean said slowly, carding his fingers through his sobbing brother's hair. "I think he was trying to hide."

Dr. Choi sighed. "Well..." he said slowly, "I checked your story and it all seems to check out. Unfortunately that means that Sam has a very long road to emotional recovery."

John nodded in agreement, looking back to his sons huddled on the floor.

Dean didn't think anything, just tried to comfort his brother as best he could by just holding him tightly as he sobbed. _How can my hot-tempered, stubborn little brother be reduced to this!?_

Sam didn't understand what was being said and he didn't _want_ to understand what was being said. All he wanted was for Dean to hold him and make the nightmares go away.

* * *

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	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P**

**I'm back~~! But school is starting next week so unfortunately that means updates might still be a little slow :( BUt hopefully not, if i stay on top of everything :)**

**This was a REALLY hard chapter to write. It's based off of personal experience and it was kinda hard for me to express so i hope it's not too confusing.  
**

**Enjoy chapter fourteen!**

**

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**

They went back to Sam's room, with Dean coaxing his brother to walk back.

Sam had a death grip on Dean's shirt, his eyes darting in every direction and murmuring incoherently under his breath. He didn't take any notice to John or the doctor.

Dr. Choi left the Winchesters in Sam's hospital room. "Just try and keep him calm. I need to check on a couple other patients, but I'll be back as soon as I can."

Keeping Sam calm wasn't that much of a problem for the most part. He mostly remained catatonic, clutching to Dean tightly. The only bit of life he showed was when John tried to come over or talk to him. Sam would get a panicked look in his eyes and bury his face in Dean's neck, clutching him even tighter. John tried not to take it personally but it was easier said than done.

"C'mon, Sam..." Dean said quietly. He had been trying to elect some sort of response from his brother, but so far, nothing. Dean rubbed his hand up and down Sam's arm. "Look, I get it, kid. You have been through some serious shit these last couple of months. But it's _over_ now. We're hear, that witch and bastard Ted are gone -- "

Sam gasped and jerked away at the word 'Ted.' "No, no, no, no, no! I won't say a word, won't make a sound!" Sam sobbed as he gripped at the invisible pendant around his neck and pushed a hand against his head. "Deeeaannn..." Sam whimpered brokenly.

That was _not_ the reaction Dean wanted to get out of his brother. "Oh god, Sammy..." Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, trying to shush his cries. "I'm sorry, li'l bro... it's alright... You're safe now, you're safe..."

Sam frowned and looked up at the young man in confusion. He tenatively brought up a shaky hand and lightly traced Dean's face, as if trying to map it out. "Deeann..."

Dean had his own frown as he allowed Sam to touch his face. Dean gave a quick glance at his father, who also looked confused. Dean gently grabbed Sam's hand and said, "Sam... who _am_ I to you?"

Sam's frown deepened. "Dean."

Dean nodded. "Right but who exactly _am_ I, to _you_? A friend...? Family...? Boyfriend?" Dean tried to joke.

Sam blinked at this. "_Mihi... Mihi, es custos_."

Dean looked at Sam in surprise. "Dude, what's with the latin?"

Sam just looked down, fiddling with his hospital gown. "E-everything's... muddled..." he whispered.

"Sam!?" Dean said, excited that his brother seemed to be opening up. He knelt in front of his brother, who was on the bed, and cradled his brother's head in his hands. "Sammy?"

Sam looked at Dean with a broken look, tears threatening to fall. "Like a fly..." Sam said quietly, not caring that he didn't make sense. "I flew in and messed everything up. Now we're stuck and nothing makes sense!" He closed his eyes and sobbed, his body shaking. "My b-body...! In b-boiling wat-ter..."

"Shhh..." Dean soothed, his own eyes filled with tears. "It's okay. You don't have to -- "

Sam shook his head hard. "W-won't... come back out!" Sam heaved as he tried to work the words out through his burning lungs "Now! Now, now, now!" Sam took several deep breathes, trying to calm his sobs down. He had to say it. He had to say it before his courage ran out and he _couldn't_ say it.

Dean looked at Sam worriedly. Sam had his arms in a shaky death grip. He was obviously trying to say something but having trouble getting it out. "It's alright, Sam..."

Sam shook his head again, his sobs reduced to wet, shaky breathes. "It doesn't make sense..." Sam said, barely audible. "The entire web's messed up, but 'Dean' is still there..." Sam took in another big breath. "'M sorry... Outta everything..." Another sob came loose. "You're always there."

Dean only half-understood, but that was enough. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around his brother again. Sam willingly allowed himself to be buried in Dean's chest, softer sobs shaking his trembling body.

Dean looked at his father over his brother's shoulder, a tear falling down his face. "What're we gonna do, Dad?"

John blinked, stunned at the scene that just unfolded before him. "I'll talk to the doctor," he said distractedly.

---

When Dr. Choi came back, John requested a private conversation away from his boys. The doctor agreed.

"I'd like to take Sam back home as soon as possible," John said.

The doctor sighed. "I understand, but I'd like to at least keep him overnight to make sure he's okay. I'd also like to give him one more check-up before you leave."

John nodded. "I just want him outta here as soon as possible. Sam's confused and scared and I think having him back in familiar surroundings might help."

Dr. Choi nodded slowly. "You realize if I may want Sam to stay longer if I believe his mental health is at risk."

"I'll sign him out AMA then. Look, I know you have my son's best interest at heat, but he's _my_ son. I had friends who suffered from PTSD when I was in the marines. I know how to deal with... trauma victims." John hated himself for using the term.

"Well, it's your choice, Mr. Winchester. Just please note that I may be entirely against your decision."

"Fine," John said. "As long as we have an understanding."

* * *

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	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P**

**hey, i'm alive! XD**

**Ugh... hard chapter... and lame ending. But at least I updated! XDD  
**

**Enjoy chapter fifteen!**

* * *

"Dean?"

Dean looked down at his brother. "Yeah, Sammy?"

Sam looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen. "Who are you?"

Dean didn't respond for a moment, unsure of what exactly Sam was asking for. "What do you mean?"

"Why... why do I know you?" Sam asked slowly, honestly confused. "_Es custom mihi._ Why is that?"

"Yeah..." Dean said slowly. "You mind translating that Latin for me?"

Sam frowned. "Latin?"

Dean gave Sam a worried look. "You're randomly speaking in Latin, dude. _Es custom mihi_. What's that supposed to mean?"

Sam looked down, as if he was translating it in his head. "You are... to me... you are guardian."

Dean blinked in surprise, a small well of emotion filling him up inside. _Sam forgets everything... and yet seems to retain the fact that I take care of him?_ Dean couldn't explain why, but that made him feel incredibly _good_.

Sam shrugged. "It just comes into my head," Sam went on, distracted by his own thoughts. "Just keeps coming and coming, that little bit of sanity spewing what it can until it's gone, too."

Dean slowly nodded. _I hope that the way Sam is talking doesn't mean he's insane..._ "Is there something you need to tell me?"

Eyes still focused in space, Sam nodded. "I think so. I don't know what it is, but it's there, welling up until it puts itself back together in tiny bits of letters. Then it'll make sense." Sam scrunched his face in distress, clutching his head tightly. "Pathetic piece of meat..." he whimpered.

"No!" Dean said sternly, forcing Sam to look at him. "The last thing you are is pathetic! You have been to hell and back. You can't expect yourself to be normal after being _tortured_ in more ways than one!"

Tears prickled Sam's eyes again. "I couldn't let go..." he whimpered. "There was nothing left and I couldn't just let _go_..."

Dean nodded, stroking Sam's hair. "I know, Sam. I know."

Sam shook his head adamantly. "It's all I have left!" Sam's hand came up to grip the invisible amulet again. "_Dean_. A word. That little bit of sanity? _Dean_ kept it there. That's why I wrote it over and over! That's why I attached it to Latin! I knew more about _Dean_ at the time, but I committed _Dean_ to memory 'cause I _knew_ it would disappear, taking all the other bits and pieces with it! But I want it back now! I know I can have it back, but it just _won't_!"

Dean hoped he was understanding Sam's rambling right. "It'll come back, Sammy. It will. Just give it time."

Sam shook his head again. "Who _are _you?"

Dean bit his lip, wondering what would happen if he told Sam the truth. _Well it's not like I'm gonna _lie_ to him. _"I'm your brother."

The reaction was thankfully anti-climatic. Sam looked at Dean's face again and slowly nodded. "Shredded and tough strings connecting..." he said quietly.

Dean sighed. "Do you remember the foster care home?"

Sam looked at his brother, confused. "Lots of kids..." Sam said slowly, trying hard to remember. "I was so _lost..._" Tears welled up in Sam's eyes again, but he quickly wiped them away. "Those little threads... what happened to them?"

Dean gripped the nape of Sam's neck comfortingly. "Why were you lost, Sam?"

Sam frowned a little, shaking his head. "It disappeared..." he mumbled to himself.

Dean sighed. His head shot up as his father walked in. "Dad?"

"We're leaving," John said. "Get Sam dressed, then we're going."

"What about Sam's foot?" Dean asked. "He can't walk."

"I'm already getting him crutches," John said. "No get on with it. I want outta this death house as soon as possible."

Dean nodded, pretty much in agreement with his Dad. Any and all hospitals were to be avoided for a multitude of reasons. He was actually surprised he brought Sam here in the first place.

His eyes flickered to his brother, but he avoided direct eye contact with Sam, because honestly... that would be just a little creepy.

Sam's trusting gaze never left Dean's face, his facial expression that of a ten year old, instead of a sixteen year old. His fist was tightly gripping the bottom of Dean's shirt, never letting go for an instant. And for some reason, all the bandages seemed to enforce the image of a younger child.

John left to finish some paper work and let the boys have their privacy as Dean helped Sam change. When Dean opened the locker containing Sam's clothes, his leather jacket and necklace were on top. Suddenly feeling very naked, Dean turned to Sam, holding up the two articles. "You still wanna wear these, Sammy?"

Sam looked at the bloodstained jacket and tiny necklace, slowly shaking his head. "Little threads need to be re-sewn." Sam squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head hard. He tried again. "Don't belong on me."

Dean nodded, both thankful that he could wear his jacket and necklace again, and relieved that Sam wasn't totally out of it. "Okay." Dean quickly slid the jacket on and threw the necklace of his head. Then he grabbed Sam's pants and handed them to his brother. "You need help?"

Sam shook his head as he carefully fit the jeans over his casted foot. "I-I got it..."

Dean sighed. "Okay."

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**what is it with me a sucky endings for this fic?  
**

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	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. OH! IMPORTANT! Bobby, Caleb and the others don't really exist for this story. Sorry. Trying to keep it realistic and to have it realistic, I guess they need to not be here :P**

**Ugh... I'm sooooo busy... but I'll be much more free after this saturday :)  
**

**Enjoy chapter sixteen!**

* * *

They drove for hours, looking for a place to stay far away from that dreaded town.

Close to midnight, they found a motel, mostly isolated at the side of the road. John quickly checked in and paid, tossing his son the key.

"We're room 12. I'm gonna gets us some stuff to eat."

Dean nodded. Sam kept his gaze on the ground as he leaned on his new crutches.

John nodded, sliding back into the impala and driving off. Dean sighed, turning to his brother. "You tired?"

Sam shook his head, keeping his eyes away from his brother.

Dean gave another inward sigh as he walked up to the motel room and unlocked the door. Holding the door open so his brother could crutch in, Dean said, "The town was just a few miles from here so Dad should be back in about fifteen minutes."

Sam nodded as he sat on the far bed and placed his crutches on the ground. "No strings at all…" Sam mumbled.

"Yeah…" Dean said. He locked the door behind him before sitting next to his brother. "What's with the strings, dude?"

Sam shrugged. "It's what it is. Every little thing made up of all sorts of string, here and there."

"Sounds like string theory," Dean said. "And I don't even know what string theory is!"

Sam didn't smile. Instead he looked up at his brother with inquisitive eyes. He continued to look at his brother until he leaned forward to rest himself against Dean's chest, burrowing himself in the comforting warmth.

Dean wrapped his arms around his brother, reveling the feeling of his brother alive and well in his grasp. Well, mostly well. There was that whole, my-brother-is-speaking-like-a-crazy-person issue, but Sam was fine physically and Dean was sure they'd be able to pull Sam out of this bout of insanity Sam has apparently buried himself in. A little bubble of rage boiled in his chest at the thought of what tortures his little brother had to go through while under Ted's 'care'. The tortures that could have forced his strong, defiant little brother to revert to an insane, child-like state.

No. Ted's treatment of Sam was only part of the reason for Sam's mental state. The fact that he believed his entire family was dead is what had broken Sam. Hell, Dean was pretty sure that he would have also broken under those circumstances. To save himself from harm, Sam effectively wiped away his memory and placed himself in a protective shell. And the only thing that seems to be able to break that shell is him, Dean.

In a way, Dean felt almost giddy that while Sam wouldn't react to anything and had buried himself away from the world, he reacted to Dean, remembered the name 'Dean'. Sam apparently kept Dean in his mind, even when everything else was erased. Sam kept 'Dean' in store for his sanity. And that made Dean feel incredibly _good,_ that Sam held his big brother in that kind of regard. But at the same time, that means it was probably up to Dean to try and get his brother back, try and drag him out of his shell.

This was Dean's responsibility, in every sense of the word. And he would carry through, no matter what.

---

By the time John came back with the greasy fast food, Sam had fallen asleep in Dean's arms. John quietly closed and locked the door behind him, trying not to wake his son. He noticed the lack of a salt line at the door, but decided not to call Dean on it. Boy had enough on his plate.

"What'd you get?" Dean asked quietly.

"Bacon cheese burger for you and a regular hamburger for your brother."

"What about you?"

"Already ate," John lied. He placed the greasy bags on the table and sighed as he shed his jacket off. He was not in the mood to eat anything. He just wanted to make sure his sons get what they needed then go to sleep. "We need to get your brother to eat something before he goes to sleep for the night."

As much as Dean hated to wake up his brother, he knew his father was right. It was actually really uncomfortable to hold Sam like this because his bones kept poking him sharply. He won't ever complain about it though.

"Sammy?" Dean shook his brother's shoulder. "Wake up, you need to eat something."

Sam woke up easily and without a fuss. His unfocused gaze wandered between Dean and John, as if trying to figure out what they were doing.

John gave the boys their burgers. "Eat up, then you can go to sleep."

---

_Ted grabbed Sam by the arm and threw him against the wall, shoving his boot into Sam's back, making him scream. "I'm gonna teach you to make a fool outta me," Ted growled. He grabbed his belt and swung the buckle at Sam's back._

_Sam cried out as the cold metal cut into his skin. He slid down the wall and curled in on himself, staring at Ted in fear. "P-please..."_

_Ted swung the belt again, ignoring the cries and pain-filled grunts coming from the teen. When he got tied of the belt, he simply kicked Sam in the chest._

_Sam sobbed hard as the man continued to beat him, the pain spreading through his entire body like a wave crashing over him._

_Suddenly, Ted was gone. Everything was gone. Nothing but blackness left.  
_

_Still in pain, Sam gingerly sat up, his body shaking from the pain and exertion. He didn't know where he was, but it was cold and deafeningly quiet._

_The nothingness turned into a bright and loud scene on the road, the sudden change making Sam throw up from the disorientation. Sam heaved until he was able to compose himself. Gasping deeply, Sam looked up at where he was._

_There were firetrucks and police cars. A crushed car was on it's side and on fire. Firefighters were spraying the fire as others were using jaws of life to open up the car._

_Only a few moments later and a body was dragged out. It was crushed and covered in blood. The face was half blown off, the smell of blood and burnt flesh emitting from the body in strong waves.  
_

_Barely recognizable, but recognizable. It was Dean._

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**okay, weird chap, but I updated!  
**

**PLEASE REVIEW AND FEED THE DRAGON!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: We also live in a happy world where everything is perfect... (I WISH!)  
**

**Sam is 16, Dean is 21. **

**Okay... so now Bobby and the others DO exist... sorry for the unrealistic aspect of the story that is the extra characters :PP**

**I'm so sorry for the late update X'( But we're headed towards the end now...  
**

**Enjoy chapter seventeen!**

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Dean practically jumped out of bed when a scream pierced the silence. Instinctively realizing it was his brother, he ran to the other bed and grabbed his brother by the shoulders. "Sam!"

Sam's scream abruptly stopped, but as soon as he saw Dean, he broke out sobbing, grabbing his brother's arms in a death grip. "I-It was you..." Sam sobbed out. "God, please don't leave me!"

John flicked on the light, watching his youngest with worry. "Sam," John said quietly, "We're not gonna leave you."

Sam looked over at John with swollen red eyes. "Dad?"

John and Dean both froze. "Sam, do you remember him??" Dean asked anxiously.

Sam looked over at Dean, looking a little confused. Then his eyes suddenly widened. "No!" Sam pushed Dean back, making him fall hard on the floor.

"What the hell, Sammy!" Dean said, more worried than anything else.

Sam's head swiveled between Dean and John, visibly becoming more agitated. He started to shake his head. "Th-this isn't _possible..." _Sam whimpered.

Dean swallowed hard, already noticing the change in Sam's behavior from the insane-child-state. "Sammy... what's wrong?"

Sam looked up at Dean and stared with such intensity, Dean though Sam was going to have an imprint of his face on his eyes. "You're _dead_." Sam's eyes flickered to John. "Y-you, too... I-I _saw_ your bodies! I saw _everything!_" Sam screamed. "Y-you can't _be _here! You're dead! _Dead! Gone!_"

"W-we know," Dean said shakily. "But it was a hoax. We didn't die. Some witch set this all up to mess with you. We're here! We didn't die!"

Sam looked up at his brother, tears starting to fall down his face. He visibly started to calm, though he was still very agitated. "I remember. I remember... everything." Sam looked at his father. "'M sorry... I forgot."

John sat on the bed next to his son. "You forgot what, Sam?"

Sam cast his eyes down, avoiding his family's gazes. "Forgot you," Sam mumbled, feeling like the worst person in the world. "'M sorry... I d-didn't mean to." Sam quickly wiped his tears away, hoping that somehow his father didn't see them.

John swallowed hard, placing a hand on Sam's shoulder. Sam flinched a little, but didn't shrug it off. "Sam, after everything you went through, I'm not gonna get mad at you for something as simple as forgetting me."

"What about being weak?" Sam squeaked out. "I-I couldn't fight back a simple _human_. How can you expect me to fucking _hunt??_"

"Sammy..." Dean placed a hand on Sam's knee. "That Ted bastard was bigger and stronger than you. And obvious had some moves of his own. He seemed to be as a good a fighter as Dad. If Dad started... _torturing_ you like that, I don't think even I would have been able to fight him off."

Sam swallowed, still avoiding their eyes. Finally, he backed away from them, shrugging their hands off. "I wanna go back to sleep."

John nodded. "Sure." He got up and flicked the light off. He gave his sons one last glance before crawling into his bed.

"Do you want me to sleep here still?" Dean asked. "'Cause I can move to the couch if you'd prefer that?"

Sam barely gave his brother a passing glance before looking away. "W-whatever you want."

Dean nodded. "Alright." He lifted the covers Sam was sitting on. "Get up and scoot your butt over."

Sam gave a small sigh, glad his brother had decided to stay. He did as his brother said, then crawled under the covers and lay beside his brother. "Y-you're not mad?" Sam asked with a whisper.

Dean shook his head. "I'm not mad. There's no reason for me to _be_ mad."

Sam gave a small nod. "I still feel... not right. Like the world's not the way it was before."

Dean scoffed. "I really didn't expect you to get better with one chick flick."

Sam gave a half smile. "Yeah... So you're not mad?"

Dean sighed. "Read my lips, Sammy. I'm. Not. Mad."

Sam nodded, relaxing a little. "Okay. 'Night."

Dean huffed. "'Night, Sammy."

---

"So where we going?" Dean asked the next morning.

"Bobby's."

Dean nodded, looking over at his slumbering brother. "What the hell happened last night?"

John looked over at his youngest, thinking about the events of the previous night. "I think Sam's brain finally figured he was ready to deal with the shit he's gone through. Obviously Sam's not just going to suddenly be better, but it's probably a good sign."

Dean nodded. "Okay." He bit his lip. "Actually, while we're waiting for Sam to wake up..." Dean turned towards his father. "Why don't you tell me what happened between you and that witch?"

John closed his eyes. "Dean..."

"No, you don't just get to shut me out! Sam's been tortured in everyway possible because of whatever happened! That's not just something you can just avoid! I'm not saying its your fault but I _need_ to know what happened!"

John clenched his teeth together. He knew his son was right. But that didn't mean he had to like it. "It was a couple years ago. There was a clan of witches using young children to collect youth and store it. God knows for what. They were really hard to find, constantly moving and using spells to cloak themselves. So... I was able to get my hands on one of them and I... _convinced _her to tell me how to find her kin."

Dean's stomach clenched. "Andd by 'convinced' you mean... interrogated? Tortured?"

John looked away from his son. "It's not something I'm proud of, Dean."

Dean swallowed as he closed his eyes. "Go on."

John sighed. "I was able to find them and kill them, no problem. Then I killed the witch whom I persuaded to betray her clan. But obviously... I didn't make sure she was dead. And she obviously never forgot."

Dean stood, running a hand down his face. "You tortured her... forced her to betray her clan... then tried to kill her. She survived, and took her revenge out on Sam."

John buried his face in his hands. "Again, it's not something I'm proud of..."

Dean abrupty swung around. "But you did it! You did all those things!"

"They were supernatural beings, killing children!" John growled. "What did you expect me to do!?"

Dean swallowed, a hallow laugh erupting from his lips. "I wasn't aware torturing them was part of the deal. Has Bobby tortured anything? Jim? Caleb?"

John shrugged, truly at a loss. "I wouldn't know either way."

Dean sighed, sitting next to his father and burying his head in his arms. "_God_, Dad..."

In the occupied bed, Sam bit his lips, trying to keep his sobs silent. _I'm dreaming, right? This is a dream..._

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**not a bad chap, if i do say so myself :)  
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